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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. # 



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The True Man, 



AND OTHER 



practical ^ermon^ 



BY 



REV. SAMUEL S. MITCHELL, D.D. 



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WCl $ 



NEW YORK: 
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 

530 Broadway. 

1877. 







Copyright y 1876, 
By Robert Carter & Brothers. 



Cambridge : 
Press of John Wilson & Son. 



TO THE 

MEMBERS OF THE NEW YORK AVENUE CHURCH 
AND CONGREGATION, 

AT WHOSE REQUEST THESE SERMONS ARE PUBLISHED, 

AND BY ONE OF WHOM THEY HAVE BEEN SELECTED AND PREPARED 

FOR THE PRESS, 

&\)i8 Uolume is &ffecttonatclg Btsmbrti. 

MAY IT PROVE A PLEASANT MEMORY OF DAYS GONE BY; 

AND, IF IT PLEASE GOD, DO GOOD 

IN THE FUTURE. 

S. S. M. 

Washington, D.C., 1876. 



CONTENTS, 



i. 

THE TRUE MAN. 



Page 

" For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he." — Prov. xxiii. 7 . . 1 

II. 

PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

" But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection : lest 
that by any means, when I have preached to others, I my- 
self should be a castaway." — 1 Cor. ix. 27 ...... 18 

III. 

THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

"And Jesus said unto them, Come ye after me." — Mark i. 17 . 34 

IV. 

SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

"And Jesus said unto them, I am the Bread of Life." — John 

vi- 35 48 

V. 

THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

"The fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness 

and truth." — Eph. v. 9 6$ 



VI CONTENTS, 

VI. 

THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

Page 

"And your life is hid with Christ in God." — Col. iii. 3 ... 78 

VII. 

THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

" For he endured, as seeing Him who is invisible." — Heb. xi. 27 91 

VIII. 

FAITH CULTURE. 

" If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, 
whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself. ,, — 
John vii. 17 104 

IX. 

THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

"And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary, 

there they crucified him." — Luke xxiii. 33 118 

X. 

CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

" The Church of God, which he hath purchased with His own 

blood." — Acts xx. 28 133 

XI. 

THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

" For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; 

" The flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds 
is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; 

" The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with 
the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my 
fair one, and come away." — Song of Sol. ii. 11, 12, 13 . . 147 



CONTENTS. Vii 

XII. 

BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

Pagb 

"And she called his name Moses." — Exodus ii. 10 .... 160 

XIII. 

ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

" Lest there be any profane person, as Esau, who for one mor- 
sel of meat sold his birthright." — Heb. xii. 16 .... 175 

XIV. 

THE GREAT CONDITION. 

"To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life, 

which is in the midst of the Paradise of God." — Rev. ii. 7 190 

XV. 

LIFE WISDOM. 

" So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts 

unto wisdom." — Psalm xc. 12 207 

XVI. 

THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

"The spirit of Elijah doth rest on Elisha." — 2 Kings, ii. 15 . 220 



SERMONS. 



I. 

THE TRUE MAN. 
" For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he." — Prov. xxiii. 7. 

I ^VIDENTLY. the body is not the man. It may be 
-*— -^ disgraced, deformed, diminished, and yet the man 

remain untouched. This physical disfiguration and 
loss are only the taking down of a house. The wings 
are first removed, and the occupant is scarcely dis- 
turbed. Then the main building is reached. This 
room is now pillaged, that one now entered by the 
destroyer. So the process of dissolution goes on, the 
occupant meanwhile retreating before it, until the fin- 
ishing blow falls upon the only remaining apartment, 
and then the indweller, driven forth, must seek 
another home. 

So our bodies die. First, this power decays, then 
this member fails ; elasticity, buoyancy, strength, — 
these go one after another. First, the keepers of 
the house tremble, then the grinders cease, because 
they are few, then these which look out of the 
windows are darkened ; and soon, very soon, the house 
we live in is so injured, that we must move out of it. 



2 THE TRUE MA A' 

" Not that we would be unclothed," not that we pre- 
fer homelessness ; but that we may be " clothed upon," 
may find another and an enduring home. 

So men use, so they live in, so they leave, their 
bodies. See the martyr in the flames holding up his 
right arm ! It is not he which is burning ; but that 
power which is holding up that burning arm (now 
dropping piecemeal) is he, — this is the man. And 
soon the body will be so ravaged by the flames, that 
he can no longer live in it ; then he will go out. Bend 
your ear close to the parched and now stiffening lips. 
What is the whisper which escapes them ? It is the 
man's last utterance through those lips. When he 
speaks again, it will be in other way, through other 
instrument. 

Look upon that man by your side. Behold how 
his selfishness and greed and sensuality are etching 
themselves into the features of his face. See that 
other one, how his love and purity and peace are 
showing themselves in the same features. What is 
the explanation ? Have the eyes, of themselves, any 
lusts ? That pinched mouth, does it so love money ? 
That sodden flesh, in which the dull fire burns, is it so 
fond of spirits ? No : it is the man himself who is 
doing all this. He is the artificer here. So with 
many a house in our vast cities. Its vestibule is 
dirty, its walls are spotted, its blinds swing crazily on 
their broken hinges. Is the house a drunkard ? No ; 
but the owner is. So intimate, so separate, is the 
man and his body. 

Neither are a mans words himself. You cannot 



THE TRUE MAN. 3 

say; "As a man speaketh with his mouth, so is he." 
Many a man stands silent in the presence of a great 
wrong, while another blasts it with burning words. 
What shall we say of the first, — of the silent man ? 
That he has no character ; that his moral life is a 
negation, a nonentity ? We know better. We know 
that he stands silent, because he can endure that which 
God hates ; because he connives at it ; because he is 
making ready to embrace it. 

Then, again, words are often used to conceal, to mis- 
represent, to counterfeit. The pirate on the high 
seas often runs up a beautiful flag. But this flag is a 
false one ; waving its beauty over black hearts and 
murderous hands, over blood-stained decks and ill- 
gotten treasure. So the pirate on human society. 
He glorifies purity, while he himself is impure. He 
proclaims the praises of honesty, while he himself 
is dishonest. In the Church, he cries out, " Lord, 
Lord," while he does not the things which the Lord 
commands. In the State, he is loud for reform, while 
he himself is only for office. " The words of his 
mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his 
heart ; his words were softer than oil, yet were they 
drawn swords." 

You well know, my hearers, how easy it is to use 
words for a blind, for secrecy, for deception. And 
you also know — even when you endeavor it — how 
often your words fail to give an exact picture of your 
true self. Hence it cannot be given as a general rule, 
that as a man speaketh with his mouth, so is he. 

Neither is it possible, universally, to discern the es- 



4 THE TRUE MAN. 

sence of character in action. A man endeavoring to 
put himself in deeds is like a man running the molten 
metal into the mould. He knows what he wants to 
bring forth, but he doesn't always succeed. The 
image, the casting, often comes out of the mould with 
a flaw in it, which spoils all. Then there is nothing 
else to do but to cast it into the furnace again. So 
we, melting down our sentiments, and our resolutions, 
and feelings, endeavor to make of them a certain 
piece of conduct. But when it comes out we see at 
once that it is not perfect, — not what we intended it 
should be. Like the Israelites of old, we cast into 
the furnace of resolution the golden treasure of our 
hearts, and there comes out a calf. We didn't intend 
the calf, but there it is. And others looking upon 
it, say, " There ! I knew it : you see how it is ; his 
divine ideal is a calf." But it isn't, and we know 
it isn't. 

What good man is there, who has not again and 
again, failed to do himself justice in his life ? How 
much of unrealized beauty is there in every artist, which 
he has never gotten on the canvas ! And how much 
of purity and sweetness and unselfishness is there in 
many a Christian heart, which the sculpture of action 
refuses to express ! And men look on the statue 
which we have carved, and say, " What an awkward 
position ! what a stiff and angular arm ! what an 
expressionless face ! " And the worst of it is, we 
know they are right : we know the heart purpose has 
not justice done it. 

Then there are, on the other side, actions which are 



THE TRUE MAN. 5 

more beautiful than the thoughts of the heart. The 
foul hand lifts up a delicate and perfect crystal from 
the muddy puddle ; but the mud is beneath. So now 
and then, out of the depths of a vile and selfish life, 
the hand of a chance resolution lifts up the beautiful 
and perfect deed. But the mud, the vileness, the self- 
ishness are in the heart nevertheless. 

Such is the path, my hearers, by which, when we 
have gone far enough, we come to the true man, — to 
the essence of human character. This is found not in 
physical conditions, found not in words, not in deeds. 
It is found in the heart. It is the disposition, it is the 
heart state, which is the true man. " As a man thinketh 
in his heart, so is he. ,, And if you will consider for a 
moment, you will see that this test of human charac- 
ter is a perfectly just one ; that it is entirely right that 
we and all men should be judged in this way. 

For consider, that our life is a progress, is in the di- 
rection of the realizatio7i of this heart state. The 
question, here, is one simply of time, of an unfolding, 
of progress, of development. There is, no doubt, many 
a man in the world to-day, whose whole happiness and 
trust and ambition are in the wealth which he has 
accumulated. He is now what the Bible terms a rich 
man, — one who trusts in his money, and with whom 
covetousness is idolatry. And yet, a few years ago, 
this man was poor, with nothing of that which he 
now possesses save the fierce and all-controlling 
desire of wealth. But had there been any necessity 
for judging him, in that far-off day of littleness and 
poverty, it would have been just to have found his 



6 THE TRUE MAN. 

true character, his real self, in this desire. This was 
what he was before God. For all his life, since that 
day, has been but the unfolding of this desire, the 
putting himself into action, the realization of his true 
life. During these years, he has only been unrolling 
hfmself, just as the embryo unrolls, develops, into the 
finished product. All this time, the man has only 
been engaged in the work of self-assertion, of that 
self-assertion which is a fight with, and a victory over, 
external opposition. 

Take a perfectly dry sponge, and any examination 
will show its true character. No water may be found 
in it ; but, what is more important, its capacity to 
receive, its hunger for water, — this will be discovered. 
Now put it in a vessel of water. See how it sucks up 
the liquid. Behold, how it stores away, in its pre- 
pared cells, the coveted article. But it is even no 
more a sponge now, when it is full of water, than it 
was before it contained a drop. 

So the man of whom we spoke. At first, his nature 
was the dry sponge, and, all these years, he has been 
filling himself, — been sucking in the money around 
him. Such is many a man's life, — one long process 
of ingurgitation. All the powers of his being are so 
many channels filled with the desired good, and all 
flowing inward. Then death comes, and, by destroy- 
ing the suction force, reverses these currents, com- 
pelling effusion. Then the streams flow outward. 
The broken fountain sends out his fulness in every 
direction ; and the world is the better for the break- 
ing. But, evidently, before the man was full, his true 



THE TRUE MAN. 7 

character was there, — was there in his all-controlling 
desire, in his felt hunger. The sponge does not 
change its nature by the filling of itself. 

Now, this is still clearer when the human develop- 
ment of a single moment is considered. Take this 
case. A man, by touching his finger to the trigger of 
a pistol, makes himself a murderer. But, evidently, 
the activity of one single finger for a single moment 
does not make up the essence of murder. It is but 
the expression of a force already existing. So the 
charged cloud shoots down its bolt upon the finger of 
the iron rod ; not changing its nature by the act, but 
only disclosing this nature. 

So is it always. Action is but heart expression. It 
is the life force manifesting itself, — framing itself be- 
fore the eyes of men. It is the opening up of the 
bud into the flower. All that separates between the 
heart purpose and its embodiment in open deeds is a 
period of time. The substance of development is 
there, the direction of development is fixed, and the 
actual concrete result, too, exists potentially. Time 
only is required to bring it into the range of human 
vision. This is all. 

So you see, my hearers, the heart thought — the 
heart purpose — is the true man. All else, the words, 
the actions, *are but the progressive realization, the 
perfecting expression of this. It is the man inter- 
preting himself to the world ; but he himself is there 
already. He it is who craves, who is compelled to, 
this interpretation. The fountain is there, and it 
must flow ; the seed is there, and it must grow. 



8 THE TRUE MAN. 

But again : not only is human progress towards 
the realization of this heart state, but the separation 
of the man from this full expression and realization 
of his inner desire is not a matter of his own choice 
or creation, and therefore cannot enter y as an element, 
into his character. 

The field open, covered by the human choice, is 
only this, present desire y and this is all. What you 
are now in heart, what you desire, — these things you 
have your say about, these you choose. But about 
the realization of your desire, as to whether this shall 
ever be, or when it shall be, — about these things, you 
do not have your say, you cannot dictate. You have 
heard it said more than once of this man or that, " It 
is not his fault that he is not rich." This is true. It 
is a case of baffling, — of baffling by external force. 
If the man had his own way, if he had the hand to 
sculpture his true self out of the world around him, 
he would be rich. And the truth, here, is capable of 
a converse expression. It is not the man's virtue 
that he is not rich. This statement is as true as the 
other. Poor as the man is in the sight of his fellows, 
before God, he is rich ; that is, one who makes gain 
his god. 

So, it is not to the praise of many a one that his 
impure heart has not broken forth in ♦a black and 
foul stream of vile action. The occasion has been 
wanting, external circumstances have hedged him 
round, God's providence has dammed in the vileness 
of the heart. It has been in there ; it has been the 
true index and essence of his character for years : 



THE TRUE MAN. 9 

but the external has been such as to prevent its 
manifestation. It remains as unmanufactured char- 
acter, as unembodied manhood. 

So, it often happens that a man is, to a certain 
extent, kept under the power of religious truth, who 
is, in heart, utterly disloyal to the divine law. The 
restraints of society, the influence of a pious wife, 
and, many other external forces, often contribute to 
this end. Let these all be removed, and immediately 
the man would take on an absolutely godless life ; 
that is, would manifest his true self. A wild beast, 
tethered, is as much a wild beast as if he were loose 
and his jaws bathed in human blood. The stake 
which is driven in the ground is not an element of 
the beast's nature, neither is the strong chain which 
binds him to it. What would he be, what would he 
do, if he were loose ? These are the questions which 
bring into view the true nature of the beast. 

So, evidently, it is with man. He who comes to 
Washington, and here throws off all moral restraint, 
is the same man he was in his own quiet neighbor- 
hood : Washington having given him freedom ; this is 
all. So she who goes to Paris, there to forget God's 
day and God's church. Paris is not the former of char- 
acter here ; she is only the revealer. She calls forth 
the heart purpose, which had hitherto been repressed 
by the hand of custom. She but gives liberty to the 
woman to be " as she thinketh in her heart." Evi- 
dently, my hearers, when the life differs from the 
heart, the latter, and not the former, must be regarded 
the true man. 



IO THE TRUE MAN. 

But thirdly : not only is human progress towards 
the expression of the heart in life, not only is its 
shortcoming here, that, which may not be set down to 
the credit of a man ; but this is also true, that, sooner 
or later, the full coincidence between the external and 
internal is inevitable ; the full expression of the heart 
is sure to come* 

This may happen at any period of this life. I have 
known a tree in the orchard, for years propped up, 
suddenly fall and perfect its ruin ! The reason was, 
that it stood not in its own and all-sufficient strength. 
So happens it unto men daily in this world. Propped 
up by family influence, by the custom and habits of 
their community, by the fear of public opinion, by 
the absence of opportunity for, or inducement to, evil, 
the man stands for years ; and then, of a sudden, goes 
down ! The explanation is, that what we counted the 
man, was not the man at all, only an artificial and 
compound product of the man and society, of the 
man and his position. So many a coward, in the day 
of battle, fights like a brave man. Looking on, you 
would say, he is a brave man. But he is not. What 
appears as his bravery is an accident of his position. 
He is in the front rank, well wedged in : there is no 
chance for him to run. And this impossibility begets 
the counterfeit likeness of personal bravery which 
you see. 

The chaff is not separated from the wheat until the 
day of winnowing. So the true man is not shown 
until his hour comes. The heart-thief is not the 
hand-thief until his opportunity arrives. This, some- 



THE TRUE MAN. II 

times, is the largeness of the haul to be made. He 
who will steal one hundred thousand dollars would 
not steal one hundred thousand cents. Then, again, 
it is the supposed impossibility of detection. Then, 
again, it is pressing need. The man worth a million, 
walking down the street, is in no danger of stealing 
a loaf of bread from the window. Why ? Because 
he doesn't want bread, isn't hungry, can easily pay 
for it. But this, his abstinence alone, doesn't prove 
him not to be a thief. So is it of all sin and of all 
crime. It shows itself when its hour comes. Provi- 
dential circumstances develop it. Combinations, of 
what to the man are fortuities, act like a bait, and 
draw it forth, like a lever, and lift it up, like the light, 
and photograph it. 

When shall this hour, this juncture, this crisis, 
come, do you ask ? No one can tell. Only this we 
can say. It may come at any point in human life 
And this, secondly, is true, — it must come at death. 
You know it is difficult often, although standing 
directly before it, to get a true view of a picture. 
Cross lights, light from all quarters, intermingle and 
produce confusion, blur the image. So, the many 
half lights of this present life falling upon a human 
character, often lead to confusion and concealment. 
Self-showing is bad ; character is counterfeited ; society 
is deceived. It needs the hand of death to lift a man 
up out of these opposing and contradictory lights, and 
set him in an atmosphere which falsehood cannot 
breathe ; where moral life is transparent, where the 
whole universe shall see through him. Human lives 



12 THE TRUE MAN. 

here are like clocks, heavily wrapped about with con- 
cealing coverings. The face is scarcely discernible, 
the ticking is muffled. Death lifts them up out of 
their hiding-places, and shows them all uncovered, — 
glass-cased. You can see everywhere. You can 
note every pendulum stroke. You can hear every 
tick. 

" In him is light, and no darkness at all." " Then 
shall we know, even as we are known." " Therefore, 
judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, 
who will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, 
and will make manifest the counsels of the heart." 
"In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men 
by my Gospel." Such is the light, such the self- 
showing, such the revelation of character, which is 
coming. 

Now, human lives are like seeds which lie in the 
husks. Custom, habit, repression, dissimulation of a 
hundred kinds, are the husks. But, through all these, 
the hand of judgment will reach for the true kernel of 
manhood. Fold after fold, garment after garment, 
woven in this false world, cut out and fitted by hands 
of deception, will be torn off, until the true man — 
self-knowing and universally known — will be dis- 
closed, will stand forth, to remain for ever " as he 
thinketh in his heart." 

You see, my hearers, how true the text. The 
sweep, the progress of every life is forward, towards 
the evolution, the embodiment of its heart purpose. 
The distance which separates it from this realization 
is even now, not the result of its own choice ; and the 



THE TRUE MAN. 1 3 

day is coming, surely coming, either in this world or 
the next, when this separation shall be wiped out ; 
when the outer and the inner life of man, like two 
concentric rings, shall meet and melt into one. Heart 
and life, character and reputation, being and position, 
are only temporarily divergent, and while this diver- 
gence lasts, it is by his heart purpose only, that the 
man can be known. This it is which draws the 
horoscope of his future. This, and this alone, is it 
which puts what shall be into what is his own place. 

Receive, in conclusion, two or three inferential les- 
sons. First : tendency is every thmg in the moral 
world. I do not ask you, my hearers, how far you 
have gone. This makes little difference. In this 
world we but commence a life, and the amount of 
actual separation already placed between the best and 
the worst man is very small. The direction in which 
men face, this it is which counts every thing here, 
this it is which separates human lives. And my 
question of you this night, my hearers, is, Which way 
are you facing? Toward perfect honesty, toward 
purity, toward benevolence, toward Christ ? Or are 
you facing toward duplicity, toward impurity, toward 
malevolence, toward Belial ? I ask not to what you 
have come. This hardly any of us could answer. 
But I ask you this : Which way are you going ? In 
what direction is your life tending ? Toward peace, 
toward heaven, or not. This is the all-important 
question here. At what goal are you aiming ? This, 
of all moral interrogatories, is the most meaning. 

Secondly : this subject furnishes the explanation 



14 THE TRUE MAN. 

for the widely different destinies of the Christian and 
the Unchristian life. We hear it said continually, 
" Look at them. What is the difference between the 
two ? " Well, there is not much now : save in the ten- 
dencies of their being, in the directions in which they 
are going, they are very much alike. Two men upon 
the surface of the earth stand side by side, touching 
each other; with their faces in opposite directions, 
they move forward : when shall they meet ? Only 
when they have travelled the circuit of our globe. 
So, morally, in the same world, in the same commu- 
nity, in the same family, stand brothers side by side, 
yet with their faces turned to opposite poles. When 
shall they meet? Only when they have made the 
circuit of the Infinite. 

The heart state, the heart thought, — this is the 
true man ; and in this, potentially, as in a seed lies 
his future. Out of this, as from a seed, shall grow 
the difference which shall impress and everlastingly 
separate two lives which are now, in their actual 
development, so much alike. 

A third inference from this subject is, — the neces- 
sity of making charitable judgment of our fellow-men ; 
or, what is better still, abstaining from all judgment of 
them. There are excellent reasons for this. What 
we see is not the true man, only the envelope of the 
man. What we have as premises for our conclusions, 
here, is not the full expression of the inner life, but 
only a few occasional and imperfect manifestations of 
this life. It is as if you should walk through a 
strange orchard in the autumn. Your attention is 



THE TRUE MAN. 1 5 

drawn to a tree with a few scrawny apples upon it, 
and you say to the owner, " Why don't you cut that 
tree down ? It does not deserve its place in your 
orchard." This you say, while the owner replies, 
" Cut that tree down ! Why, it is one of my rarest 
varieties ! But things have been against it this year. 
In the first place, last winter the rabbits almost 
girdled it, and then in the early summer it was well- 
nigh uprooted by a violent storm. But it is coming 
on, and next year I will show you the finest fruit of 
the orchard on this tree." 

So we look upon a human life, and judging it by a 
few imperfect expressions of its true character, con- 
demn it absolutely. But, in the mean time, the Great 
Husbandman is saying, " Circumstances have been 
against him so far, but the true life is there." Breth- 
ren, we do but look upon the houses in which men 
dwell, and how can we judge of a man in this way, — 
of his true, of his real self, by looking at his house 
front ? Let us wait. There is an Omniscient Judge, 
and a day of light is coming. Let us judge nothing 
before the time. 

A fourth inference from this subject is one of 
encouragement to those who are true and good at 
heart. You look upon what you have done, upon that 
part of yourself which you have expressed in life, and 
say, " It is wretchedly poor and unbeautiful ! " So it 
may be. But that is not your true self, that is not 
your ideal of beauty and goodness. It is only a very 
lame and imperfect expression of your character, and 
you will yet do better than this. Like the artist, you 



l6 THE TRUE MAN. 

will improve in the matter of expression. You will 
come unto acts and life which are more nearly accord- 
ant with your inner self. And in the mean time, while 
you are chiselling away, and painting away, remember 
that the One who judges you, does this not by what 
you have produced, but by what is within you, by 
what you are aiming at. He knows the picture you 
would paint if you could, and according to that is 
your acceptance and reward. 

A fifth inference is one of discouragement to the life 
which is false at heart. Such a one may look upon 
his conduct, and say, "Well, I don't see that it is 
much worse than the conduct of those who profess 
to be good/' So it may not be. But the vileness of 
the fountain does not muddy all the stream at once. 
Disease is in the blood before it blotches the face or 
disfigures the body. No more than goodness of heart, 
does badness have its full expression at once. Still 
the false, the impure, heart is the true man even now. 
Before God, this inner life is already developed, and 
the Unchristian man of to-day is what he shall grow 
to throughout a Christless eternity. 

But again : the subject discloses the possibility of 
true self-judgment even now. You may have been 
often baffled in your life aims ; you may have suc- 
ceeded only very poorly in putting your true self into 
action. Looking upon the record of your life, it 
might be difficult, even for yourself, to say what you 
are, and where you stand. But what have you been 
striving for, what have you been aiming at these 
years ? What has been your life standard, your life 



THE TRUE MAN. 1 7 

ambition ? To-day, what are you thinking of as the 
best and noblest portion, — as the best and noblest 
success of the human life ? This, your heart thought, 
will give you your true character. Would you rather 
be rich than good ? If so, there is your true self, and 
you may recognize it. Would you rather have honor 
than purity ? If to-day, even in this hour, your life 
should sweep on to its goal ; if at this present 
moment your governing desire could be realized ; if 
now, at once, you might be just what your heart 
wishes, — where would such a realization place you ? 
Would it leave you pure in heart, loving man, praising 
God, doing good ? Or would it leave you rich, sleek 
of external, successful, as men count success ? Which- 
ever of these is your possible self to-day, such is your 
true self ; towards this you are going ; as such, you are 
even now judged. 

My hearers, I leave the subject with you, adding 
only this thought. Your heart disposition, your life 
tendency, is your true self ; and upon this, now and 
evermore, rests the condemnation or benediction of 
that Eternal Truth, which, in the hands of God, is the 
arbiter of human destiny. 



II. 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

"BUT I KEEP UNDER MY BODY, AND BRING IT INTO SUBJECTION I 
LEST THAT BY ANY MEANS, WHEN I HAVE PREACHED TO OTHERS, 
I MYSELF SHOULD BE A CASTAWAY." — I Cor. ix. 27. 

THIS is the language and experience of the Apos- 
tle Paul. It suggests, first, what we may call the 
many-sidedness of Scripture, or, perhaps still better, 
its polarity. 

Take a bar of magnetized iron, and one end of it 
will attract what the other end repels. Now break 
the bar in the middle ; and of either half the same will 
be true, that one end of it will attract, while the other 
end repels the same thing. And so you may keep on 
breaking and lessening, until you come unto the atom, 
and even in it the two poles will be found to exist. 
Even the minutest iron filing has its duality, its oppo- 
sitions, its polarity. Tyndall says of a most eminent 
philosopher, that he may be said to have spent his 
life gazing into this infinite perspective, back into 
which, down along which, run, in an ever-narrowing 
path, these two disagreeing and irreconcilable forces. 
And the last that he saw of them, the last report 
which his microscope gave of them, was this, " They 
are now within the smallest atom, an atom so small, 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 1 9 

that scores of them might pass abreast through the 
eye of a needle. But still the old enemies have not 
met, they have not shaken hands, they have not 
touched each other, they have not consented to be one." 

Strange, beautifully strange, is it not, my hearers ? 
But not more wonderful, I think, than the polarity of 
that truth which relates the finite with the infinite, 
and which comes out in the Word of God. Take this 
declaration from the mouth of Revelation, "Hath 
not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump 
to make one vessel unto honor and another unto dis- 
honor." And place this alongside of the text, " I keep 
under my body, and bring it into subjection : lest, 
that by any means, when I have preached to others, I 
myself should be a castaway." The effect of these 
two truths upon the human mind, through all the gen- 
erations, can be likened to nothing, more illustrative, 
than to the two poles of the magnet. Bring the latter 
near to a Calvinist, and it repels and is repelled. 
Bring it near to an Arminian, and it attracts and is 
itself attracted. And so, vice versa, of the former 
text. Carefully move it over toward an Arminian, 
and you will see him recede. Gently push it toward a 
Calvinist, and you will see him attracted. 

And so, up before the human mind, rise these two 
truths, — Divine sovereignty and human responsibility ', 
— drawing nearer and still nearer to each other, as they 
reach up unto God ; but, so far as the perception of 
the human mind can follow them, still apart, still 
unreconciled. But as in the magnet there is but one 
force manifesting itself in duality, so here, we must 



20 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

- 

believe there is but the one truth of man's relation to 
the Infinite One manifesting itself under these appar- 
ent contradictions. God is not mocked ; God cannot 
be thwarted ; God cannot be disappointed. This is 
one pole of the truth here, of truth which binds you 
and me to God, — truth which we need to know, 
and under the inspiration of which we need to live. 
Then, on the other side, man is free, man is respon- 
sible, he can make or unmake himself. This is the 
other pole, and it also is truth which we need to 
know, and to feel day by day. " Hath not the potter 
power over the clay ? " This, taken by itself, is fatal- 
ity. And on the other side, " I keep under my body, 
lest I be a castaway." This, by itself emphasized, 
shuts God out of human history, makes the individual 
the architect of his own destiny, in a sense no created 
and dependent being may be. 

What then shall Theology do here ? Why, let her 
follow the example of Philosophy, and give equal jus- 
tice to both poles of truth. The philosopher does not 
say, as he looks upon the needle, " There must be 
some mistake in the matter. Surely, the needle is not 
one thing at one end, and quite another and different 
thing at the other end. At any rate, I cannot, in 
justice to my system, recognize duality here." The 
philosopher does not so reason. But he writes down 
what he sees. He says, "This is a great mystery. 
But there are the two poles, and one is as deserving of 
my attention as the other." So let Theology do. Let 
her state and teach what Revelation has stated and 
taught. She may not, in this way, be able to construct 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS, 21 

a system ; but she will communicate, what is far better, 
God's truth, as He wishes men to have it, in its many- 
sidedness, not designed for the potter's clay of philos- 
ophy, but for practical effect upon the hearts and lives 
of men. And what shall you and I do with whom the 
great question is not theology, but salvation ? Why, 
let the truth of God smite us, or let it comfort us with 
any one of its hundred hands. 

And now, I turn to the practical lesson of the text. 
It brings into view what we may call human responsibil- 
ity/or the lower or physical conditions of spiritual life. 

If we conceive of religion as reaching up through 
several spheres, more or less high, then the words of 
the Apostle have reference to the dangers which sur- 
round it and the foes which attack it in the lowest 
spheres of all. As a plant has its enemies which 
crawl upon the ground, attacking it from that point, 
and others which fly in the air, so the spiritual life has 
its antagonists who come forth to meet it on every 
level of the natural life. There is the danger to 
religion from high and profound intellectualism. Also 
in the still higher region of imagination and the affec- 
tions. Then also, on the lowest and widest level, in 
the physical region, there is often the marshalling of 
forces to oppose all growth in grace, and all religious 
development. And these are what the Apostle al- 
ludes to. He does not say, " I must be on my guard 
against scepticism of the intellect. I must be careful 
in the guidance and control of my affections." But 
this is what he says, " I must keep my body under," 
"I must bring the physical into subjection to the 
spiritual, or be a castaway." 



22 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

Evidently, the Apostle refers to the power of cer- 
tain physical conditions to check and to destroy the 
life of the soul. The first which I particularize is, 
excessive development of physical appetite and passion. 
That this has the fearful power implied in the text, 
such power over the spiritual life as to check and ulti- 
mately destroy it, rendering the man a castaway, is 
very evident. The first and most patent effect upon 
a man, of any such passion or appetite, is upon his 
religious life. Take the professing Christian man 
who is given to intemperance. This fact will become 
apparent first of all in his relations to the Church, 
in the earnestness and faithfulness of his Christian 
life. His bodily health will not tell the sad tale so 
quickly as will his spiritual health. Before you can 
trace the handwriting of the vice upon the counte- 
nance, before you are able to mark its disturbing 
power in the domestic sphere, you will be able to note 
its influence upon the pulse of the man's religion. 
This is the first thing which is affected. 

The man, who is yielding to some of his baser 
appetites, dies like some trees, from the heart out- 
ward. First and foremost, dies that within him which 
is the very core of his manhood, — his spiritual sense. 
This goes first, because it is weakest, the most del- 
icate. When in the autumn, the first frost falls, the 
choicest, the most tender, plants wilt first under it. 
The rare exotic will succumb, while the hardier native 
plant will show not so much as a mark of the death- 
bearing influence. Now the religious life of man is 
this exotic ; and under the congealing influence of 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 23 

physical vice, before this baleful death-influence which 
creeps through the soul, it is the first to suffer and to 
die. And, besides being the weakest, religion is that 
in man which is most directly antagonized by the 
growing power, the strengthening demon of animalism. 

There is much within man with which the indulged 
vice may make some sort of terms, may arrange to 
live in the same home. It may so agree, for a time, 
with love of family, w T ith desire for a good name before 
men, with many of the higher tastes and ambitions 
and activities of the human life. The intemperate 
man or the licentious man is not at once thrown out 
of all his former relations to the world, does not at 
once show a change in all the features of. his natural 
character. But in his relation to God, he must change 
and change at once. His vices and spiritual life can- 
not exist together. They cannot breathe the same 
air. The life of the one is the death of the other. 
Hence we always see, that the first vicious indulgence 
shows itself at once by marked perturbations in the 
religious life. At first, and often for long it may be, 
no one can say what is the disturbing power. The 
man restrains prayer. He drops out of the prayer- 
meeting. He absents himself from communion,- and 
no one knows what is the matter. 

Some time since, astronomers were very much 
puzzled by certain strange movements in one of the 
heavenly bodies. The perturbations were such that 
they could not be accounted for by the action of any 
known force. But with their telescopes they went on 
hunting, and soon found the disturbing agent, This 



24 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

was a neighbor planet hitherto unseen. So, the mys- 
terious irregularities in a man's moral life are often 
explained. Farther and. closer observation discovers 
the disturbing power. It comes into the field of our 
vision, in the shape of intemperance or licentiousness 
or some other bodily vice. 

And this baleful influence of physical appetite and 
passion upon spiritual life is proved by the words of 
scripture, in which is pictured the ultimate result. 
" Be not deceived, says the Apostle, neither drunkards, 
nor adulterers, nor covetous, shall inherit the kingdom 
of God." And again, "The works of the flesh are 
these, adultery, uncleanness, drunkenness, of the 
which as I have told you in time past, they which do 
such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 
That is, the ultimate result of spiritual life cannot 
consist with, but is exclusive of, this physical excess. 
The former tends unto salvation, is a process of eleva- 
tion, of purification reaching unto perfectness. While 
the latter is a process of degradation, of pollution, 
tending unto destruction. The final state, the goal 
of spiritual life, is heaven. The final state, the goal 
of excessive animalism, is hell. 

This then makes up to us the first physical condi- 
tion which antagonizes religion, and which a man 
must overcome or be a castaway. No matter how 
long a Christian, what his faith or hope, what attain- 
ment made, or to what experience reached; if he 
yield here, all is lost. Here, a Christian can stand 
only as Paul stood. Under God and by the mighty 
effort of his own will, he must bring the body into 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 2$ 

subjection, subordinating all its passions to the lofty 
and imperilled interests of the immortal life. 

A second physical condition- which antagonizes the 
growth and safety of religion is too great absorption 
in the cares of this world. The Bible commends 
fidelity and earnestness in all that a man puts his 
hands to. " Not slothful in business/' is its language. 
Diligence is a Christian virtue. It is one of the high 
obligations of the Christian, to do with his might that 
which his hand findeth to do. But there must be 
subordination here ; subordination of the seen to the 
unseen, of the temporal interests of the life to the 
eternal. Like Paul, a man must here also keep 
the physical under and bring it into subjection. And 
here comes into view this second physical condition 
which stands in the way of growth in grace. It is 
when the cares of the world enter in so as to choke 
the Word. In other words, it is simply excess of the 
physical again ; this time, however, not in the direc- 
tion of vice, but in the direction of business and worldly 
care. 

A man is like a vessel. He can hold so much, and 
no more. Now if this quantity be present, no matter 
of what it may be, the man is full, preoccupied, ab- 
sorbed. It makes no difference what the liquid is 
which you pour into a cask, if you pour a certain 
quantity into it you equal its capacity, as well with 
wine as with milk, as well with water as with wine ; so 
the capacity of a man may be met with the cares of 
this world. They may pour themselves, or* he may 
pour them, into his soul in such quantity as to leave 



26 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

room for nothing else. They may spring up so rank 
and thick within him, as to take up into themselves 
all the nutriment of his being. 

So many a man is physically conditioned. He has 
no taste, no capacity, no strength, no time for any 
thing else. He scarcely knows the faces of his 
family. He never reads any thing longer than a 
stock or market report. He has no time for the cul- 
tivation of his mind, none for the development of his 
manhood, none for the care of his immortal soul. He 
has become simply an animate engine. His food and 
drink are the fuel which he throws under the boiler ; 
his driving wheel, the purpose to be rich ; and the 
track along which he flies, mammon's glittering rails, 
spanning the whole peninsula of time. How can the 
spiritual thrive or grow, or hold its own in such a 
man ? Where will you find place in him for religion ? 
The simple state of the case is, the man is full. The 
plain truth is, all the energies of his being are already 
absorbed. The man is wholly taken possession of by 
the physical. The world's cares, like so many strong 
men armed, have driven out all before them, and now 
rule over and occupy every capacity for thought, for 
feeling, and for action ! The good seed is choked. 

And the result is the same, if honor instead of 
wealth fills the man. The particular type makes no 
difference. The condition of danger only is, that a 
man be filled, be absorbed with the cares of this 
world. And these may be generated by poverty and 
weakness and disappointment, as truly as by afflu- 
ence and success and increasing power. There are 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 2J 

not a few in the world whose whole soul and mind 
and being are daily consumed in reflection upon their 
poverty, their sore necessity, their approaching want. 
Their fears may be all without foundation, and their 
cares purely artificial ; but this does not prevent their 
absorption of human capacity, their diversion to them- 
selves and consumption of all the energies of the 
being. What chance is there for the spiritual to 
assert itself under such circumstances ? How can a 
man grow in Christian life, in love, in peace, and trust, 
who cannot forget his worldly cares long enough to 
say the Lord's Prayer ? Why, the thing is impos- 
sible ! Into such a life, the Word of God cannot 
come, and no other of the means of grace can come. 
And, of course, but one result is possible ; the re- 
ligious life must succumb, must die of starvation, and 
the man become a castaway. 

This, then, is a second physical condition which is 
in conflict with the law of spiritual life, — over-absorp- 
tion in the cares of the world. A man must find time 
for thought, time for prayer, time for attention to the 
wants of his spiritual and immortal nature, or he must 
go down. Like Paul, he must stand up in the might 
of his Christian purpose, determined that all else, all 
parts and portions of the lower and physical life, 
shall be subordinated to the salvation of his soul. 
He must do this, or become, what Paul feared, a 
castaway, a spirit bankrupt and beggared for ever- 
more. 

I mention a third physical condition which operates 
as a check and hinderance, and oftentimes as the 



28 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

destruction of spiritual life. It is the atmosphere of 
selfish indolence. Work is ordained of God. It is one 
of His original institutes. Adam, in his state of per- 
fection, was put into the garden to dress and to keep 
it. Work, an intelligent and fruitful activity, was thus 
made the one condition of healthful development, and 
to this day it remains as such. What Dr. Watts 
wrote for children, is true for all periods of life, 
" Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." 
The mind must act, and if it cannot do so normally 
and healthfully, it will do so morbidly and injuriously. 
Now, occupation, something to do and which is so 
good that it deserves to be done, some life aim, it is 
which furnishes the natural and only healthful outlet 
for this force of life. It is the very ruin of thousands 
of both men and women in all our large cities that 
they have nothing to do. 

And that which was made the condition of human 
development at first Christ has lifted up and sancti- 
fied to the end of Christian growth and safety. His 
command is, " Son, go work in my vineyard." " If 
any man will come after me, let him take up his cross 
and follow me ; for whosoever will save his life (keep it 
all to himself, inactive and unproductive) shall lose it, 
and whosoever will lose his life (lose it in a constant 
expenditure) shall save it." So does Christ lay down 
the condition of religious growth and safety. Not 
that occupation, in itself, has any power to lift a man 
above sin, but that it furnishes the condition through 
which Chrises power acts. For the child to have 
something to do, is not one and the same thing with 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS, 2$ 

its being kind and loving and obedient ; but occupa- 
tion, and through this, usefulness of life is the soil 
in which love and obedience can be most readily- 
grown. 

And let no one, by any species of mystical faith, 
delude himself with the idea that the higher spiritual 
agencies of soul salvation dispense with or work inde- 
pendently of the normal laws and conditions of human 
life. Why, if a man eat too much his spiritual life is 
checked, is hindered. So, if he work too much. So, 
if he be idle. Christ works through means. He 
saves men through the home, through the school, 
through temperance, through all the normal obliga- 
tions and relations under which He has placed human 
life. That is, His grace sanctifies these as means, 
uses them as channels through which His saving 
power flows out to human necessity. And if a man 
wilfully transgress in his lower life, he does so much 
to throw himself out of relation to Christ, to sever 
the connection between himself and his Saviour. 
This is why the man who has deluged himself with 
worldly cares cannot be saved. This is the reason 
why the dissipated man cannot grow in grace. And 
it is also the explanation of the fact, that an aimless, 
idle, indolent life furnishes a condition most antago- 
nistic to the progress and continuance of God's work 
in the soul. . 

I only mention, without dwelling upon it, another 
physical hinderance to spiritual life. It is the pre- 
dominance of irreligious association, or, what is the 
same thing, living in a bad moral atmosphere. Good 



30 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

air, God's sunshine, — these are more to the body 
than all else. They are the great and unchanging 
conditions of its health, under which and through 
which must work all other lesser and individual 
agencies, — cleanliness, exercise, diet, regularity in 
habits of life. These may be all in great part neutral- 
ized by a violation of a condition of health more 
fundamental than any of them. Let a man breathe 
in noxious gases day by day, and, it makes no differ- 
ence what other special precautions he may take, his 
health will be gradually undermined. 

So is it of moral and spiritual health. It depends 
much upon the character of its surroundings. " Evil 
communications corrupt good manners." A man 
cannot put his hand in the fire and not be burned. 
Hence the importance which, in Scripture, is laid 
upon the separation of Christians from the world, 
and upon the Christian communion which has been 
prepared for them. " Forsake not the assembling of 
yourselves together. ,, And this : " Then they that 
feared the Lord, spake often one to another." And the 
invitation of the church, " Come with us and we will 
do you good." It is possible for every man to sur- 
round himself with religious associations. He may 
do so wherever he is or whatever his business ; or it 
is possible for him to live outside of them altogether. 
But, if he does the latter, with his own hands he 
places his religion in imminent peril, with his own 
hands he organizes danger and defeat. No man is 
strong enough to stand by himself. And it was 
never intended that the greater part of any Christian 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 3 1 

life should be spent outside of all religious associa- 
tion. 

In view of all that has been said upon these physical 
conditions which imperil the safety of the spiritual 
life, it follows : That Christian cultivation covers a 
much wider sphere than many seem to think. First in 
order, as a means of grace, stands the Church. So 
important, so necessary, are her privileges and duties 
to man, that they have, with common consent, come 
to be spoken of as the means of grace. And no man 
can do without them. No man is wise enough, or 
strong enough, or self-helpful enough, to forego them. 
They are divinely ordained for the spiritual neces- 
sities. And then, secondly, outside of and beyond 
these agencies and helps, ordinarily known as means 
of grace, there are others none the less needful, 
and whose places cannot be supplied by ever so 
good attention to the Church and her ordinances. 
What matters it how much a man prays, if he is living 
in intemperance or impurity ? Will prayer save 
him ? What good will the communion do her who 
has sunken down into the depths of a perfectly selfish 
and indolent life ? Will bread and wine transform 
her into the image of Christ ? And take the man 
whose heart is eaten up with the cares of this world, 
whose one consuming thought is business, — money, 
money ; honor, honor. Can the Word of God dwell 
richly in such a one ? Where ? In what part of 
him ? 

You see, my hearers, what a wide field the salva- 
tion of a man covers. A field just as wide as his 



32 PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 

danger. No one. can be more urgent than I am that 
you should make diligent use of all the means of 
grace afforded by the Church. But I tell you your 
responsibility to your religious life is much wider 
than this. Outside of the Church there are, what we 
have termed, the physical conditions of spiritual life, 
and these are in your power. These you must see to. 
These you must prepare with a view to your moral 
safety. These you must subordinate to the purpose 
of your spiritual progress. 

My second remark upon the whole subject is this : 
There is no point in the Christian s progress, at which 
he can afford to relax in vigilant watch and care of 
the physical surroundings of his life. No mere man 
ever yet was lifted up above the power of these. 
There never was that saint upon earth, whose saint- 
hood strong drinking could not destroy. There never 
was human mind so spiritual, but that God could be 
shut out of it by the accumulation of earthly cares. 
Look at Paul. Far ahead of any of us, he stops to 
throw back these words to us. " I feel that I am yet 
in danger. It is a constant struggle with me to keep 
under my body." 

My hearers, you cannot be too careful in your 
watch over the physical. See how men are going 
down around you, becoming dishonest, intemperate, 
impure, making shipwreck of their religious life. If 
you stand, it will be God who upholds you I know ; 
but God does not save from drowning the man who 
throws himself over Niagara. Nor does He save 
from death the one who swallows poison. Neither 



PHYSICAL CONDITIONS. 33 

will He save you if you voluntarily ignore the con- 
ditions of safety. 

Again. This subject points out a very wide sphere, 
in which human activity may co-operate with the sav- 
ing power of God. Many Christian hands are idle, 
because they do not know what to do. To such, I 
say, look at Paul. Hear his words, " I keep un- 
der my body and bring it into subjection." Learn 
from these words that a great work, and one which is 
peculiarly your own, daily waits for you upon the 
level of the natural and the ordinary. You are so to 
place and hold your life that God's grace shall not be 
frustrated. You are so to arrange the physical con- 
ditions which God has put into your power, that they 
shall not hinder your spiritual life. 

And now the question is, "Are you ready to do 
this ? " Are you ready to give yourselves into 
Christ's hands, ready to marshal all the powers of 
your being under His leadership, ready to subordi- 
nate every thing else to your moral welfare, — in a 
word, are you ready, willing, to be saved ? Ah ! my 
hearers, we are not straitened in God, but in our- 
selves. And men fail, men make shipwreck, because 
that, for temporary gain or pleasure, they are willing 
to ignore the most common and fundamental con- 
ditions of spiritual safety, — conditions plainly laid 
down, and as plainly within the sweep of human 
power. 

3 



III. 

THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

"And Jesus said unto them, come ye after me." — Mark. i. 17. 

"XTEITHER argument nor numerous citations from 
-*- ^ Scripture are necessary, I think, to lift up before 
your minds the great truth that God has appointed faith 
to be the solitary and the indispensable condition of salva- 
tion. I will not therefore delay you upon the exhibit 
of this truth farther than to refer your attention to 
two or three of its more prominent expressions in the 
Bible. "The just shall live by faith," declares the 
Prophet of the Old Testament ; and this sentiment is 
reiterated by the New Testament Apostle, and in the 
same words, " The just shall live by faith." You will 
also find written upon these pages this other decla- 
ration, equally pertinent and conclusive upon the same 
point, " We are saved by grace through faith." And 
in an historical case, presented to us in the Acts of 
the Apostles, when an individual, out of the heart of 
an intense desire, and out of the agony of a great 
fear, addressed to an Apostle this question, "What 
must I do to be saved ? " the answer came plain, direct, 
and unmistakable in these words, " Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." These 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT, 35 

citations will, I think, be sufficient to bring very clearly 
before your minds the great truth, which indeed runs 
all through the Bible, that faith is the divinely ar- 
ranged and divinely named condition of eternal life 
and human blessedness. 

But, judging from the experience of my own mind, 
as it has dwelt upon this matter, I think that the ques- 
tion must often have occurred to you, Why has faith 
been made the condition of salvation ? What is there 
in the nature of faith which entitles it to this solitary 
prominence, and in virtue of which it is fraught with 
such tremendous importance ? Permit me therefore 
this morning, while I speak to you from the Word of 
God, to address my remarks to the answering of this 
question, and to the application of this answer in all 
its far-reaching significance, to the condition and 
necessity of our present lives. 

The question then before us, is this, Why has 
faith been made the condition of salvation ? And its 
answer is (an answer which I hope to justify, both 
from the nature of the case and from the plain words 
of the Bible), — the answer is, Because faith is, in man, 
the principle of action. In other words, man is so 
made that life is the result of and is governed by belief, 
that the persuasion of the mind determines the con- 
duct of the life. And this is why faith is named as 
the condition of salvation. A moment's notice will 
suffice to show you that this is true of human life in 
general in all departments of man's activity, and upon 
all the levels of human being and action. 

Take the matter of what we term the different 



36 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT 

callings of life. Why is one man in the profession of 
law? Is it not because he believed, that, all things 
considered, this was the best place for him, that he 
could accomplish most and enjoy himself in this pro- 
fession ? In other words, he had faith in the law, in 
its pleasantness, in its possibilities, and therefore 
entered upon it. So, another man entered upon the 
practice of medicine. He believed it was best suited 
to his taste and talents. He believed that he would 
be the most apt to succeed in this calling, and so 
chose it, so turned his life in this direction. The 
minister is also in the sacred desk because he believed 
that duty called him there ; because he believes that 
he can best discharge life's great obligation by preach- 
ing the gospel of Christ to his fellow-men. 

In all these cases, belief governs life, faith originates 
and inspires action. And it is so in every other 
matter. We are what we are, we do what we do, 
because of the persuasion of our mind which we 
denominate faith. You are a worshipper here this 
morning, and upon other days, because you believe in 
a God, and in the propriety and the obligation of wor- 
shipping Him. So, every connected series of human 
acts, every course of conduct, originates in a convic- 
tion of the mind. Life flows from faith as from a 
fountain. It hangs upon faith as fruit hangs upon a 
tree. Man, as an intelligent being, must have a 
motive for action, and this motive is found in the con- 
viction of his mind ; in other words, in faith. 

Now, the moral man is not another being from the 
secular man, but the same being acting in another 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 37 

sphere. You who, upon the secular days of the week, 
buy and sell, dispense physic, practise law, do house- 
hold work, are the same persons who to-day confess 
your faith in Christ, and sing praises unto His name. 
Hence it is true in religion as in all other matters, 
that faith is the principle of action, that belief governs 
life. And this is why God has named faith as the 
condition of salvation. This, I think, will appear clear 
unto you if you consider the existence in the Bible of 
many equivalents for faith considered as the condition 
of salvation. 

" Repentance " is set forth and used as such an 
equivalent. If you will turn to the third chapter of 
the second epistle of Peter, ninth verse, you will find 
these words, " The Lord is not slack concerning His 
promise, as some men count slackness ; but is long- 
suffering to us ward, not willing that any should perish, 
but that all should come to repentance/' In this 
verse most evidently, repentance, and not faith, stands 
as the antithesis of soul destruction ; that is, as the 
condition of salvation. If this verse only, of all God's 
Revelation, should come unto a living man advising 
him of his danger, and of what he must do in order to 
escape this danger, its voice manifestly would be, 
" Sin, wrong-doing, this is your peril. Repentance, a 
turning from this evil course, is your only hope of 
escape, the one condition of your salvation." So also, 
in the Gospel according to Luke, we have these words 
from the mouth of the Saviour Himself, " Except ye 
repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Here again, 
notice that not a word is said about faith, but repent- 



38 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

ance is put forth as the one condition of salvation. 
And so also, an Apostle, in another place, speaks of 
" repentance unto life." 

And now, my hearers, I ask you, How could repent- 
ance be thus set forth as the condition of eternal life, 
if faith, in and of itself, is this condition ? Manifestly, 
it could not. But if we take the view, that faith is 
asked for, only because it is the principle of action, 
then we can easily see why repentance may also be 
spoken of as the condition of salvation. Faith in 
Christ saves, because this faith in Christ leads unto 
the life of Christ. So repentance saves, because 
repentance of sin, the turning away from the wrong 
life, is equivalent to the taking up of the right life. 

And not only repentance, but love also, is set forth 
as an equivalent for faith, and is named as the condi- 
tion of salvation. Turn to I Cor. ii. 9. " Eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the 
heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for 
them that (what ? believe on Him ? No, but) love 
Him." So it is declared that those who love God are 
heirs to all the unending riches and glory of His 
infinite reward. So also is knowledge set forth as the 
condition of salvation. Thus, in John xvii. 3, " And 
this is life eternal, to know thee, the only true God, 
and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." 

And now, my hearers, it seems to me that these 
citations of Scripture equivalents for faith are suffi- 
cient to prove this fact, that it is not faith in itself 
which God wants, but the life unto which faith leads. 
For surely if this were not so, then the condition of 






THE GREAT REQUIREMENT 39 

salvation could not be given in these other terms 
which I have quoted. If faith, as such, is this con- 
dition, then repentance is not this condition, and 
knowledge is not this condition, and love is not this 
condition. For knowledge is not faith, love is not 
faith, repentance is not faith. But if faith is named as 
the condition, because faith leads unto that life which 
God approves, then this condition may be given in 
other affections of the mind and heart, which, as 
surely, are connected with and produce this life. And 
this is why we find these equivalents for faith upon 
the pages of the Bible. The man who loves the 
Saviour will follow the Saviour ; therefore love is the 
condition of salvation. The man who knows the Sa- 
viour, in his truth and beauty and power, will bend to 
the Saviour in his daily life ; so knowledge may be 
given as the condition of salvation. So, the man who 
repents, who turns from his sins, as surely in this act 
turns unto the Christian life ; and therefore repentance 
is set forth as the condition of salvation. 

In brief, the condition of salvation, being a life of 
obedience to God, is variously set forth, according 
as this or that persuasion of the mind or passion of 
the soul is regarded as the producing cause of this 
right life. 

If love be the producing cause, love is the condi- 
tion. 

If knowledge be the producing cause, knowledge is 
the condition. 

If repentance be the producing cause, repentance is 
the condition. 



40 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

If faith be the producing cause, faith is the con- 
dition. 

This truth will also appear from consideration of 
the Scripture examples of faith. You will find a won- 
derful catalogue, a most brilliant record, of these in 
the eleventh chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews. 
From the numerous list there recorded, I will take 
but one, — the most eminent, — Abraham, the Father 
of the Faithful. If you will refer to the chapter 
which I have named, you will discover that the virtue 
of his faith is made to reside altogether in the action 
which it inspired, and the conduct unto which it led. 
" By faith, Abraham, when he was called to go out into 
a place which he should after receive for an inheri- 
tance, obeyed ; and he went out." And again, " By 
faith, Abraham, when he was tried, offered up Isaac." 
So you observe, my hearers, that all the importance of 
the faith of Abraham is found in its fruitage of life. 
In other words, his faith is named, is praised, because 
it was in him the principle of action, the producing 
cause of an obedient life. 

And no doubt, the sense and force of the passages 
which I have quoted would remain, if for the word 
faith we should substitute the word love. Thus, " By 
love, Abraham, when he was called to leave his own 
country, obeyed and went." Obeyed, because he was 
the friend of God ; because he loved God. It is very 
evident at least, that the virtue of old Abraham's faith 
is considered as residing in the life to which it led. 
And so we must believe it is now. It is not our faith, 
as faith, which God wants, but an obedient life ; and 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 41 

faith is named as the condition of salvation, simply 
because it leads to this life. 

But does any one ask, " Is then Christian obedience 
the ground of our salvation ? " I reply, " It is not 
possible for any obedience of ours to possess any such 
merit. ,, But although the Christian life is no legal 
title to heaven, it is something quite as good. It is 
the commencement of heaven in the heart, and it 
holds from the Saviour the immutable promise that 
this heaven shall be perfected and- endure for ever- 
more. In other words, the Saviour promises salvation 
upon the condition of obedience ; that those who follow 
Him through this world shall, by so doing, come unto 
Him, into His presence and unto the witnessing of 
his glory. 

Again : the same truth is evident from the Bible 
description of the operation of saving faith. Thus it 
is declared in one of the Epistles, " Faith without 
works is dead." What plainer proof do we require, 
my hearers, than that furnished by these words, to 
the truth, that it is not faith, as such, which is the 
condition of salvation, but faith considered as the prin- 
ciple of action. Why, the proof here is not only suffi- 
cient, but most emphatic. The Apostle conceives of 
a case where faith remains as faith dissevered from 
life, and, fixing his eye upon it, declares, That is not 
what God asks for, that is of no moral worth, that it 
is dead because it is not a principle of life. " Even 
so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone." 

And the Apostle Paul furnishes proof of the same 
kind, when he declares, " In Jesus Christ, neither cir- 



42 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

cumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision, but 
faith which worketh by love." Similar also is the 
testimony of the Apostle Peter, when he mentions as 
necessary additions to faith, such moral qualities as 
these, — virtue, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness; 
and charity. In both of these last-named cases, the 
testimony is the same. That it is not faith as an im- 
manent act of the mind which God asks for, not faith 
as faith, hut faith as a principle of action, faith viewed 
as the producing cause of an obedient life. 

The faith which the Bible mentions with such em- 
phasis is the root-principle of all right moral devel- 
opment, is that which works unto an expression in 
right living. And since this development, this out- 
working, here is declared to be necessary ; since that, 
without it, faith is accounted as absolutely worthless, 
as dead, as if it were not, — the conclusion is inevitable, 
that faith is named as the condition of salvation, only 
because it is viewed as the principle of action, the 
inspiration and the motive of life. The man follows 
Christ, because he believes, has faith, in Christ ; and 
this, its connection with life, is the only reason why 
such prominence and importance are assigned to 
faith. 

But I pass on to another argument illustrating the 
same truth. Everywhere in the Bible, the condition 
of salvation is regarded and spoken of, as though it 
were most simple in itself, and so plainly expressed 
that no one could possibly mistake it. " He who 
runs may read," may well be the Bible's declaration 
in respect of its own showing in this matter. 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT 43 

But what is the case, what has been the case in the 
Church through all the centuries, and wherever faith, 
as such, as an act of the mind or an affection of the 
heart, has been regarded as the condition of salva- 
tion ? Why, this has been the case. In the Church 
at large, there has been endless controversy as to the 
meaning of faith, as to the elements which enter into 
it, and as to its connection with life. And in the in- 
dividual Christian life, there has been constant doubt, 
whether or not faith has been exercised. To-day, 
there are in the Church multitudes of Christians who 
have never yet known peace, who have never been 
able to call themselves Christians with any degree of 
assurance or joy. Endless controversy, troubled cases 
of individual experience the world over, — proof 
enough these, I take it, of the fact, that it is not faith 
as such, not faith as an activity of the mind or an 
affection of the heart, which makes up that way, which 
the Bible regards as being so plain that the wayfar- 
ing man may not err therein. 

Another argument to this same effect is found in 
the nature of things, or in the necessary judgment of 
the human mind. We are made in the image of God, 
and for many conclusions we need no other proof 
than that we are compelled unto belief in them by 
the very constitution of our nature. And have we 
not one of these self-evident and necessary conclusions 
here ? Is it possible for you to conceive of the All- 
Wise and Beneficent God, founding His eternal judg- 
ment of men upon faith considered as an act of the 
mind ? Take this case. Here are two men. Between 



44 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

their lives there is no apparent difference ; but one 
of them has performed a certain act of belief, and the 
other has not. Now, shall one of these men be lifted 
up into heaven, and the other thrust down to hell ? 
Can you conceive of God so acting ? In the answer 
to this question, my hearers, I think you will find far- 
ther proof of the fact that faith is named as the con- 
dition of salvation, simply because faith in man is the 
principle of action, the fountain from which flows the 
stream of life. 

But I must turn unto the brief consideration of the 
practical value of the truth for which such abundant 
confirmation has been found. 

In the first place, let me say, that it furnishes a 
test by the use of which any one may very easily deter- 
mine whether or not he is a Christian. Nothing will 
make me believe that the Saviour intended that any 
one of His disciples should pass through life de- 
prived of the strength and the joy of knowing himself 
as such. Peace, peace, " My peace, I leave with 
you." In words of this character and sweetness did 
Jesus embody His parting love and bestow His final 
benediction. But to the disciple who is not able to 
believe that he is such, who does not know that he is 
a Christian, comes no peace. It is impossible that 
such a one should be at rest in his mind. His great 
and ever-recurring doubt will keep him in constant 
fear, and fear hath torment in it. The test therefore 
of Christian life must be a simple one, — one that the 
humblest may use, and one from the use of which 
absolute certainty shall come. 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 45 

And such a test is furnished by the truth to which 
I have this day pointed your attention. According 
to the plainest words of the Bible, the genesis of the 
Christian life is a varied one. Now it originates in 
love, now again in fear, still again in that conviction 
of the mind which is denominated faith. What then ? 
Shall we attempt the analysis of our inner life in 
order to ascertain whether or not we are Christians ? 
This is a very difficult task. More than this, it calls 
to the examination of that which is not, in itself, the 
condition of salvation. Love is not that condition, 
but love which leads unto obedience. Repentance is 
not this condition, but repentance which is unto the 
new and right life. And it has been found that faith 
is not this condition, but faith which worketh by 
love. 

Why not then turn unto the- one essential, unto 
what, in various ways, these inner experiences lead to, 
and in which all their importance is found ; viz., 
Life. This surely is the true method. Is your life a 
following of the Saviour ? Is His will your highest 
law ? Is obedience to Him the governing principle 
of your daily conduct ? If so, however little experi- 
ence you may have had, you have surely had enough. 
If not, however much experience you may have had, 
it is absolutely worthless. 

I make a second use of this truth which we have 
considered, by saying that it wonderfully simplifies 
the initial act of the Christian life, Robert Hall said 
that the Gospel was so laid down by ministers, that a 
man of common sense did not know how to take it 



46 THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 

up. True, too true. For years I waited for some- 
thing, for some experience, which should make me a 
Christian. So, I have no doubt, many are waiting 
to-day. But there is no necessity for such waiting. 
What Christ demands of men, of you, is, that you 
" take up the cross and follow Him." Are you will- 
ing to do this ? Then commence at once. Say you 
that you have no feeling, that you have but little sor- 
row for sin, that your love is weak, that you possess 
not faith. But these are not the condition of salva- 
tion, and therefore are no objection to your entering 
upon the Christian life without them, if you will to do 
so. It is not any feeling which is to save you, but 
Christ ; and, if you are willing to follow Him, you are 
ready to commence the Christian life to-day, at this 
very hour. 

A third use of this subject discloses how completely 
the obligation to be a Christian rests npon every man 
unto whom the Gospel has come. To-day is the day 
of salvation, because to-day, the true, the better life is 
before you ; and to-day is the day of guilt, if you 
refuse to take up this life. No future day shall ever 
come which shall render more complete your obliga- 
tion in this matter than it is at this hour. 

Finally, this subject lays broad the ground of 'future 
judgment. The condition of salvation is no mental 
act which lies outside of the power of your will. It 
is no feeling or emotion or experience which is not an 
object of your volition. But it is turning unto the 
true life which the Saviour has disclosed, and which 
He has commanded. It is bowing with true loyalty 



THE GREAT REQUIREMENT. 47 

before that which you know to be good in itself, and 
binding upon you. Are you holding back from this 
life ? Lies Christ's cross before you, not taken up ? 
If so, you are condemned in your own hearts to-day, 
and with a condemnation which the coming Day of 
Judgment shall reaffirm with the force of an eternal 
sentence. 



IV, 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

" And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life." — John 

vi. 35- 

TT is not what a man eats, but what he digests, 
•*■ that nourishes him. There may be the taking of 
the material of food, the physical appropriation of it, 
without any benefit ; nay, sometimes with harm even. 
There is many a*weak and dying man in the world at 
this hour, who could take a mouthful, perhaps many 
mouthfuls of food ; that is, he could swallow this 
much. But if, in such a case, food were taken, it 
would do no good. It would remain unchanged 
within the body. In other words, it would not 
become nutriment to the body ; but, for want of 
digestion and assimilation, would continue the mere 
material of food. 

Now, so it is with that truth which is food for the 
mind, which is the soul's nutriment. There is a cer- 
tain kind of truth which needs only to be heard, only 
to be received : facts about the sun or earth, about 
light and heat and electricity. All that you need to 
do in respect to these truths is to get them, to store 
them away in your mind. Thus, for instance, the 
sun is ninety-two millions of miles from the earth. 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 49 

There ! that is all you need to do about this, — just to 
hear it ; of course with as much faith as possible, in 
the sublime guess. So, in respect to light. It is by 
emanation, it is by undulation. Receive these facts, 
and you need go no farther with them. Appropria- 
tion is all in such cases. There is no necessary after 
process of assimilation. They are of themselves 
nourishment for the mind, without any such after 
process. 

But not so is it with moral truth, — that truth 
designed to regulate and govern human action. This 
is worth nothing, unless it is wrought into the life ; 
unless it be so assimilated as to lose the form of 
abstract truth, and become principle ; unless it passes 
into, is converted into life. 

This is the way with bread, when it does any good. 
It does not remain bread. It turns to flesh and blood 
and bone. It is converted into nerve force and mus- 
cular energy ; into heart beats and hand movements, 
into the far-sightedness of a Herschel, into the benef- 
icent activities of a Howard, — in a word, into human 
life. The bread of yesterday is the myriad-hued, the 
myriad-sided life of to-day. It is the eloquence of 
the orator, and the strength of the drayman. It is the 
skill of the artist, and the energy of the ploughman. 
And it is all this, through the wonderful process of 
assimilation, through the mysterious force of a tran- 
substantiation, stranger than priest ever taught, or 
poet ever fancied. 

Now, the truth of this analogy furnishes an explana- 
tion of the fact that so many persons in the world 

4 



50 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION, 

have a great deal of Bible knowledge, an abundance 
of moral truth, without having much of spiritual life. 
In such cases, truth has remained truth. Doctrine 
lies within them, as so much doctrine. They have 
received moral truth, just as I said you might receive 
the facts of the material world. " Heat results from 
motion," the teacher says. " Well, I have that," 
responds the scholar ; " heat results from motion." 
What next ? " Christ died to save sinners ; faith in 
Jesus Christ is a saving grace," continues the teacher. 
" Yes, I hear," replies the scholar, " Christ died to 
save sinners ; faith in Jesus Christ is a saving grace." 
So moral truth remains as so much unassimilated 
knowledge in the minds of thousands. 

They are like persons who have eaten a great deal, 
but who, from natural infirmity or from disobedience 
of the known laws of the physical life, have digested 
little. It had been better for them morally, if they 
had received less of moral truth ; for unused, unas- 
similated truth, like undigested food, ever lies heavy 
on the life which has taken it. Almost every man 
consumes enough of the raw material to make him 
healthy and strong, provided only he turned it into 
nutriment. So, we all have enough of truth, as truth, 
of doctrine, as doctrine, if it were only used, if it were 
only converted into life. We have the bread ; and 
what is wanted, and all that is wanted, is, that it shall 
be made the bread of life. 

And this analogy, besides an explanation, suggests 
also the great duty we owe to our moral or spiritual 
being. It is this. The duty of assimilating the moral 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 5 I 

truth which we have received, of turning it into life. 
This should be our daily work. Our creed should be 
unto us a life-regulating power, a perpetual fountain 
of motion and action, of hope and of fear, of joy and 
of sorrow. Is time nothing, and eternity every thing ? 
Do we believe this ? Then we should be more care- 
ful for an estate there, than for building up one here. 
Is it true, that without holiness no one shall see the 
Lord ? Do we believe this ? If so, how important 
that this truth should be turned into a principle of 
action in our daily life. 

And we should come to place very little, if any, 
value upon the mere possession of truth. This never 
saved any one. It is as valueless to the life of the 
soul, as bread is in the stomach of the dying man. 
Many a post mortem examination discloses plenty of 
unused food within the body. Still, the man died, — 
died, because his system did not take up and use the 
bread. So, many a post mortem moral examination, 
no doubt, will exhibit an abundance of moral truth in 
the soul. The conclusion will be the same. Material 
of spiritual life unused, unassimilated. " The man 
knew his duty, but did it not." 

And farther than this I think we should go here. 
We should come to place comparatively little value 
upon doctrines, which we are unable to convert into life- 
force, from which we cannot gather spiritual guidance 
and strength. If the truth which we possess is not 
digestible, it is very poor stuff. 

The spent laborer, at the close of his long day's 
work, crosses the threshold of his house, hungry. If 



52 . SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

now, instead of food, you meet him with the proffer of 
good air, even an abundance of it, you do but mock 
the hungry man. What he needs is something to eat. 
Milk, give him this, if you have not meat ; any thing 
out of which he can get life. But a greater mockery 
of human need than this is it, when a man, bending 
under heavy burdens, harassed by a thousand cares, 
solicited by countless temptations, when the human 
life of sorrow and of sin asks for bread, for spiritual 
food, and is met only with a philosophical discussion, 
or an obsolete dogma, out of which the nourishing 
juices evaporated centuries ago. 

And a more sorry sight still it is, when the human 
life of its own free will, and with most eager hands, 
reaches out and draws unto itself, with a most self- 
satisfied and complacent air, that from which it can 
get no nourishment. Poor human soul ! needing 
bread, and yet sitting down contented upon a pile of 
stones, hugging these. And it is to be feared that 
very many professors of religion are doing this very 
thing ; some of them ignorantly, but some of them 
wilfully ignorant. 

But, without further amplification here, I ask your 
attention to the great matter suggested by the text, — 

THE CONDITIONS OF SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

And the first I mention is, something to be assimi- 
lated. The process denoted by this word is only the 
changing of one substance into another. Thus, the 
tree takes the air and the sunlight and the rain, and 
turns them into tree, into roots and trunk, branches 
and fruit, into its own peculiar life. Every leaf on 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 53 

your vine in spring-time is an open mouth, asking for 
these surrounding substances, that it may convert 
them into life for itself. It does not want light and 
heat and moisture, as such. It does not lay them up 
as such, counting them treasures. No, but silently, 
surely, swiftly, it assimilates them to itself. 

The sunbeam, when your flower gets hold of it, is 
no longer a sunbeam. No ; but it is blood in the 
veins of your rose, it is the blush upon its cheek, it is 
sweet odor filling the air. Now, cut off your flower 
from its commissariat, refuse the mouth which it 
opens, rudely strike back the hand which it reaches 
out, and what is the result ? Why, death ; what we 
call death. The life of the flower ceases, because it 
has nothing out of which to construct this life. So, 
the wall stops when the bricks give out. So, the web 
ceases when the weaver no longer has that which he 
can work into the growing pattern. 

Now, not otherwise is it with the life of the soul. 
This life, like all others, grows by the process of assim- 
ilation. But there must be something to be assim- 
ilated ; and what this something is the text distinctly 
affirms. // is Christ, who is the bread of life, the 
bread which is turned into life within the soul. Christ, 
and not something else ; not philosophy, not art, not 
knowledge. Where in the history of the world has 
any of these supported moral life ? Look at ancient 
Egypt, ancient Greece. Their philosophy is good in 
the w T orld to-day ; so is their art ; so is their knowl- 
edge : yet they died morally ; they retrograded spir- 
itually. Feeding upon these, as their only moral 



54 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

food, they starved. Look, too, at France, in her age 
of reason. Why, she ran mad, she demonized and 
fell, a suicide in a deluge of blood. 

No., my hearers, the history of the world proves it. 
Neither philosophy nor art can grow the food which 
shall nourish the life of the soul. Christ, not some- 
thing else, but the true Christ, is needed for this. 
Sawdust may be made up into the form of biscuit, but 
the body will starve on such bread. So is it with the 
soul. Christ is its food ; but this means the true 
Christ, and a whole Christ. 

Let a man stand between the spiritual life and the 
cross, calling himself Pope, measuring a half Christ 
out to men, and what is the result ? Look at it in the 
Papal states. Behold it in Spain. See it in Mexico. 
Superstition, immorality, idolatry, moral death. The 
soul cannot live on the Pope, or what of Christ may 
come through the Pope. It needs a whole Christ. 

Then, again, take the case where Christ is shorn of 
His sympathy, of His boundless love, of His ineffable 
yearning, and the same result is apparent. The soul 
starves. Its bread again is only half bread. The 
legal substitute, making His way to the cross, with 
the sins of a chosen few upon His head. This is but 
half truth, and half truth is often worse than error. 
And I tell you, my hearers, that souls are starving on 
this food. Starving in our own day, in our own land, 
in our Orthodox churches. 

Then there is another half Christ, the sentimental 
one. And he, too, is preached from many a so-called 
pulpit in our own land. A Christ who is no sin- 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 55 

bearer, who holds no relation to the divine law as its 
atonement, — a Christ, of whom it can, only by the 
widest possible metaphor, be said, that He was made 
a curse, — a Christ with no blood! And the same 
sad result of spiritual life is here again witnessed. 
Souls are starved. Sin becomes an obsolete word, 
and sentimentality and gush are all of Christian life, — 
a sentimentality and gush which makes every man a 
law unto himself ; and which, in a rhapsody of lawless 
liberty, can take hold of the vilest acts. 

He who is the Bread of Life is not so lifted up as 
to draw men, or to satisfy them when they are drawn. 
The soul, your soul and mine, must have Christ, — 
Christ, as He is in the Gospel, — Christ, with His 
divine sympathy, w T ith His hopeful and exhaustless love, 
— Christ, as He stands with open arms, crying out unto 
all the weary, sinful, suffering, dying children of men, 
" Come unto me, and I will give you rest," — Christ, 
as He went to the cross, a true sacrifice, bearing the 
sins of the world, — such a Christ, as prophet, priest, 
and king, — such a Christ as leader, friend, brother, 
saviour. He it is who is the bread of life. Let our 
souls have Him, and we shall live and not die. The 
first condition, then, of spiritual assimilation is, that 
the moral life have something to assimilate, some 
bread ; and this bread is Christ. 

The second condition is a good moral atmosphere. 
This implies two things. First, that your homes 
should be favorable to Christian life ; and second, that 
your daily business, outside the home, should be such 
and so conducted as to be the same. No church, 



56 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

no religious privileges, can do much for any man or 
woman, who either has no home, or whose home is a 
bad one. Why, suppose you only gave your body 
one or two hours a week of pure atmosphere. Could 
you preserve health ? Could you live ? Why, no. In 
such a case, no matter how much food you might take, 
you would sicken and die. 

So of spiritual food and growth. If you go from 
the church into an atmosphere of frivolity and selfish- 
ness, of acrimony and impurity, you will be sure to 
arrest the process of spiritual assimilation. Just as it 
is in the physical world. Let a man have a good 
meal, let him eat ever so heartily, and then step from 
the dining-room into a room full of carbonic-acid gas. 
Of what service, in such a case, is the food which the 
man has taken ? None at all. He might as well have 
taken not a morsel. His presence in the foul room 
arrests digestion, and prevents all benefit from the 
food taken by him. 

My hearers, I am not giving you here a sort of 
rationalistic spiritual hygiene. The Bible is full of 
the idea which I am enforcing. You remember how 
it was in the Jewish church. The touch of the unclean 
one made the toucher ceremoniously unclean. And 
this was only symbolic of truth which is the same 
to-day. All around us, there are those whom to 
touch socially, or in business, or in politics, is sure 
defilement. No one can breathe in their presence 
without inhaling moral poison. They are spiritual 
lepers, who ought to be compelled, wherever they go, 
as were the lepers of old, to cry out, " Unclean ! un- 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 57 

clean ! " so that all good people should get out of the 
way. And yet, those who call themselves Christians 
make bosom companions out of such, stand in rings 
with them. " Come ye out from among them ; touch 
not the unclean thing," is the voice of the Bible unto 
all such ; and it is also the voice of common pru- 
dence as well. 

" Be not unequally yoked with unbelievers/' is 
another Bible warning here. " Evil communications 
corrupt good manners " is another. The very Church 
itself is founded upon the necessity of Christian asso- 
ciation for the Christian life. Arrange then, I be- 
seech you, you who would be saved, this all-important 
condition of spiritual safety and growth. The home 
is more to you than the Church. Scolding there will 
do more than preaching here. Falseness, selfishness, 
baseness there will form an atmosphere which shall 
surely poison your life. 

So is it of the world, which is only a wider home. 
Unless your calling is an honest one and honestly 
conducted, you will surely sacrifice your soul's life. 
There are some kinds of business in this world — such 
as working in poisons, where the deadly fumes must 
be continually inhaled — which are known to shorten 
life by so many years. Men work at these callings 
because they must have bread. But they don't so 
work except at a high price. But what is the price 
that shall compensate you for entering into any asso- 
ciation where the life of conscience shall be strangled ? 
Can you make money rapidly in such associations ; 
can you get office through them ? " What shall it 



58 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

profit a man, if he gain the whole world and lose his 
own soul ? " 

Purify, then, the atmosphere around you. Keep out 
of that which is impure. Don't handle other people's 
money, except as a matter of duty. Don't offer your- 
self as almoner of the government appropriation to 
the poor Indian, except conscience bid you. Shun 
evil and corrupt association. It is said that the Upas- 
tree is girt in with a circle of dead and rotting car- 
casses of bird and beast. So, upon every side of these 
corrupt rings, are strewn the dead consciences, the 
lost souls of men. See to it then, my hearers, that 
you breathe the atmosphere of love and of kindness, 
of purity and of honesty, day by day. There are 
atmospheres in which you cannot carry a lighted can- 
dle. So, there are numberless atmospheres in which 
you cannot carry the light of a pure heart and a 
loving soul. 

The third condition of spiritual assimilation is 
activity, the exercise of tlie new and true life. No 
matter how good the food the physical man may have, 
or how pure is the atmosphere which he breathes, if, 
when filled and in this atmosphere, he sits as the 
stuffed and idle toad, he cannot come unto the fulness 
of bodily health and strength. So it is with the spir- 
itual man. Life here also is developed by its appro- 
priate activity. Duty is a divine and immutable con- 
dition of moral growth. " He that saveth his life shall 
lose it." 

Selfish idleness will kill any soul. Something you 
must do for this world in which you live, if* you would 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 59 

do the best for yourself. You may work with your 
needle, or you may give of your money, or you may 
perform acts of kindness and of love, in any one of a 
hundred ways ; but some work of salvation you must 
do, or your moral life will stagnate, and you shall fall 
into and perish in the pit of your own selfishness. 
" To do good and to communicate, forget not" Ex- 
ercise for the new life you must have, or all the doc- 
trines in the world will not keep your soul alive. 

A fourth condition of spiritual assimilation is 
thought, intelligence. Whether these things are so, 
was the question with the Bereans, and for this they 
were praised. And another clear direction is, " Med- 
itate upon these things." Still another is, " Prove all 
things." So we need to do with the truths which we 
possess. We need to look into them, to meditate 
upon them, to put an interrogation-point after them 
and erase it not until they are proved, until they 
take the shape of intelligent convictions within our 
minds. 

"Whether these things are so?" I tell you, my 
hearers, that our moral being cannot be better em- 
ployed than in just asking and answering this ques- 
tion, " Whether these things are so ? " or whether 
some man of like passions with ourselves uttered 
them in the heat of a controversy centuries ago. 

" There lives more faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds." 

Better believe half of what you do, intelligently, with 
your whole soul, than believe it all, languidly, igno- 



60 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

rantly, as a churchman. Better throw away half your 
creed, and get something which shall be as the very 
anchor of your soul. 

I can imagine a ship going to sea with her decks 
covered with bolts and bars of iron, and yet with no 
iron fluke with which to take hold of the unmoving 
bottom, when the storm breaks and the waves roll. 
So, many Christians are upon the sea of life. The 
head and mind are full of the catechism, questions and 
answers, yet are they without a faith which they can 
use in the hour of need. When the tempest blows 
they have no anchor which entereth into that within 
the veil ; none with which they can grapple reality ; 
none by which they can bind themselves to the un- 
moving throne of truth and righteousness. 

The last condition of spiritual assimilation which I 
mention, and the great one, is the presence of the vital 
principle, — the vital principle which philosophy can- 
not find out, which chemistry cannot detect. See 
those two trees. One of them lifts up its bare and 
shrunken branches ; the other is covered with leaves, 
and the birds sing among its branches. Yet the air, 
the sunshine, the moisture, all within reach of both of 
these trees. What makes the difference ? Why, in 
one the vital principle is present, from the other it 
has departed. 

Look into an earthly home. Still, rigid, cold, lies 
one of its members ; speaking, acting, full of life, 
moves another. Yet is that home not without food. 
Ay, not without food ; but of what use is food to a 
dead man ? Let wine be poured down his throat, 



SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION, 6 1 

does he revive ? Let bread be given, is he strength- 
ened ? Ah, no ! for the vital principle has departed. 

Take two members of the same family again. One 
stands before the cross, only to fall in worship. The 
other hunts through the soil, wet with the blood of 
the Saviour, for gold, and lifts up his face to blas- 
pheme, when he finds it not. The cross is life to the 
one, but death remains in the case of the other. 

Now turn to the Bible. Is it not plain that the 
disciples, before the day of Pentecost, failed to appre- 
ciate Christ, that their moral natures fed not upon 
Him? And is it not just as plain, that after Pente- 
cost he was to them the bread of life ? What made 
the difference ? What was Pentecost to moral life ? 
Only this. Down the shining slope of that day, came 
the power of the divine Spirit, the vital principle. 

But do you say, here then is the prime condition of 
spiritual growth, a supernatural one, which I cannot 
supply. Not so ; not so at all. Listen to these words, 
" If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto 
your children, how much more shall your Heavenly 
Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." 
So, producible by you is this condition of moral assim- 
ilation and growth, just as much so as any which I 
have mentioned. 

Two or three remarks in conclusion. First: it is 
Christ, who is the Bread of Life, ■ — not the Church, 
not the sacraments, not truth, not doctrines ; but 
Christ, the personal Christ. We are in the Church ; 
so far, so good. But are we in the Church, because 
we followed Christ into it ? Do we remain in it, be- 



62 SPIRITUAL ASSIMILATION. 

cause we remain near to Him ? We have our doc- 
trines : have we a Saviour ? We are Orthodox ; but 
are we pure and good and Christlike ? 

Secondly : Christ being the Bread of Life, character 
becomes a good test of the soundness of faith. Figs 
do not grow upon thistles. A true and beautiful life 
is not the fruit of an unsound and false belief. He 
who has life, who has strength, who can walk, run, 
wrestle, such a one must have eaten. So he who is 
pure, who is Christlike in conduct, must have partaken 
of Him who is the only bread of such a life. 

Thirdly : many of us are daily guilty in this matter. 
We transgress, year after year, the plainest laws of 
spiritual health and of moral growth. We take care 
of our bodily health, we arrange for our intelligent 
culture ; but there are many of us who take little care 
to see that the circumstances of our daily life are 
favorable to the growth of purity and goodness and 
Christ-likeness in the heart. And this is our mistake, 
our guilt, at which we shall wonder one day ; wonder 
that we could expose our character to all manner of 
malign and deadly influences, and this, too, while we 
could not go unto a fever patient without alarm. 

My hearers, I beg of you to think more of the con- 
ditions of moral safety and growth in this world. I 
beg of you to believe that this is a matter wider than 
Sunday or the Church, and one worthy of your most 
careful and constant thought. 



V. 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

" The fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteous- 
ness and truth." — Eph. v. 9. 

/^VVER all, above all, and for evermore, is Fatherly 
^-^ love brooding over this sad world of sin and of 
suffering. Our world has not been, and it shall never 
be, without a Divine Father. 

Radiant still is the pathway along which the Son of 
God, the Divine Saviour of mankind, rising up from 
Joseph's tomb walked forward into the eternities. 
Loving as He was when He hung upon the cross, 
powerful as He was when he burst the bands of the 
grave, so fully and so truly human as when He lay 
upon Mary's bosom, or upon His own received the 
head of the loving disciple, is Jesus of Nazareth, who 
has gone before us, gone to prepare a place for us. 

Sadly to-day as ever, I see it, the great stream of 
humanity pushing itself forward, emptying itself into 
the dark gulf which embosoms the island of time. 
Groans and tears, sins and sorrows, cares and weari- 
nesses, moral deformity and physical suffering, — an 
awful volume of sad, misshapen, unfulfilled life, daily 
disappears in the shadows. And farther we cannot 
follow it. 



6\ THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

But of this we are assured. On high, impelling, 
guiding, drawing unto themselves this vast and ever- 
increasing tide of human life, stand clasped hand in 
hand the Infinite Father and the Saviour Son. And 
so we must believe, that in the end, far off it may be, 
nothing of man, nothing of his possible growth and 
joy and glory shall plunge downward, which infinite 
love may lift upward. 

And yet is God nearer to human need, even than 
this. He not only stands in the skies, but breathes, 
as the air of heaven, throughout the earth. In the 
heart of the Church, in the heart of the individual 
Christian, in the heart of every man, is the Divine 
Spirit, striving with that man to save him from that 
which is evil, to help him unto that which is good. 

There is a special presence of Deity in the world 
to-day, as truly as when Jesus walked the earth. This 
is the presence of the Holy Spirit, who has taken 
Christ's place, who is opening up, unrolling the ful- 
ness of the Gospel, and with divine skill working it 
into the warp of this world's sore necessity. 

My subject is, The relation of this Spirit to 

THE MORAL NECESSITY OF MAN. 

And first this truth : The Spirit helps in the direc- 
tion, and along the line of morality. The fruit of the 
Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth ; 
that is, the fruitage of the Spirit in man is of this 
kind. The way He tells upon men is to make them 
good and righteous and truthful. He helps men 
along the path of these moral qualities in the direc- 
tion of a purer, sounder, better, sweeter life day by 
day. 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 6$ 

The rain comes down upon the earth, the sunlight 
falls upon it ; and to what end ? In what do they 
appear ? In what do they have their fruitage ? Why, 
in living Nature, — in waving fields and billowy for- 
ests, in fragrant flowers and golden grain, in 
Nature helped on to her natural and beautiful end. 
So, the Divine Spirit falls upon human nature, and 
fruits in what ? In righteousness, in goodness, in 
truth, — in a new man, in a better man, in a man 
helped in the direction of a beautiful and perfect 
morality. God's natural rain has its end in life. So, 
the gracious rain of His Spirit has its end, not in 
belief, not in visions, not in happiness, but in a good 
life, — a life blessing the world, and reaching up unto 
Christ Jesus. 

I know this has not always been the representation 
of the subject. Religious teachers have to a very 
great extent sought for evidence of the Spirit's pres- 
ence in the emotions, overlooking totally the sphere of 
conduct and of character. And yet, why this should 
have been the rule, I never could see. Take truth, — 
this is no mere outburst of feeling, yet is it a fruit of 
the Spirit, and is so called. Take righteousness, — 
this is not ecstasy, yet is it a fruit of the Spirit, and 
so called. Take temperance, — this is not emotion, 
and yet is it a fruit of the Spirit. Why, then, should 
the Holy Spirit be thought to exercise His divine 
influence upon the emotions alone ? 

Surely, this is a wrong view of this great matter, and 
one, too, which has done great harm. In the first 
place, it has belittled religion in the eyes of many 

5 



66 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

thoughtful men. And, in the second place, it has 
time and again sent the ardent churchman, fresh from 
the sanctuary, unto falsehood on the street, and un- 
righteousness in the office and the store, unto a world- 
liness wholly irreligious, and which, commencing on 
Monday morning, abated not till Saturday evening. 

Do you ask, " Is there then no mystery in the opera- 
tion of the Spirit ? " I reply, Yes, enough to please 
any species of theologians ; but it does not lie where 
very many lodge it. There is no mystery in the end 
to which the Spirit reaches in and through man ; but 
there is very much of mystery in His reaching unto 
this end. 

When our soldiers enter a fort, we know what flag 
they will run up. So, when the Holy Spirit enters 
the citadel of the human heart, we know what colors 
He will lift up. He will elevate the standard of moral- 
ity ; He will fling out before the eyes of the world 
the banner upon which are written the words, Good- 
ness, Righteousness, Truth. But the mystery is in 
His entrance to the human heart, — in His pene- 
trating to the fountain of the will. The mystery is 
in His mingling inseparably with the spirit of a man. 

So food enters the human body, and we know what 
its end will be. It will be flesh and blood, it will be 
bone and muscle, it will be the strength, the activity 
of the physical man. And yet physical life still - 
remains an unsolved problem. By what path is it 
that this dead material runs along until it receives a 
soul, until it quivers with the life of a Plato or a Paul ? 
Ah ! here is mystery into which the eye of philoso- 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 67 

phy looks to-day, as though it looked into darkness 
itself. 

So of the matter before us. It is certain that the 
end, the fruit of the Holy Spirit in man, will always 
be goodness of life, righteousness of conduct. But as 
to the manner in which He produces these results, of 
this we affirm nothing. Here we bow our heads in 
confessed ignorance, and only say, " The wind blow- 
eth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound 
thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh or whither 
it goeth. So is every one that is born of the Spirit." 

I pass on now to a second truth. The Spirit in His 
mission perfectly identifies Himself with the spirit 
and faculties of man. He produces nothing of moral 
result in man, so that this result lies in human nature 
unrelated to the faculties of this nature, and as the 
work of a separate and external agent. 

There is, no doubt, much within each of you to-day 
which is directly owing to the influence of another 
life upon yours. But this fact does not prevent your 
inner self from being most truly your own. As you 
look w T ithin yourself from time to time, it never oc- 
curs to you that you are simply a piece of mosaic put 
together by other hands, — something without unity, 
and to which you have no title. 

Regarding your purity you do not say, " Yes, that 
is Mr. A, in me ; " or your honesty, " That is Mr. B's 
work and property." I say, no one ever thinks of 
making such an inventory of his inner being. This 
he is sure of, and it is a fact, — he belongs to himself. 
He has made himself. Influences he has felt ; but he 



68 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 

has received these influences into himself, nourished 
them with his own life-blood, and through his own 
nature led them upward into fruit. So true is this 
that you could not, if you were asked to do so, say 
what portion or trait of your present character has 
been produced by your nearest friend. 

And so is it in the approach and converse of the 
Divine Spirit with the spirit of a man. It is the 
approach and converse of one person with another. 
On both sides is personality, on both sides is free 
will. And when the fruit of this union ripens, it is 
not one person's work, not one person's property in 
another ; but it is character truly and fully belonging 
to the one in whom it had its birth. 

Why, look within you. The truth which lies within 
your heart, is it not yours ? Do you not know that it 
is yours ? Have you not longed for it ? Have you 
not worked for it ? Has not your blood nourished 
it ? Does it not nourish it still ? Is it not as much 
your own as is the cunning of your hand, the strength 
of your muscle, or the action of your brain ? In- 
deed, is not your inner man as truly your own prop- 
erty as your outer man ? Surely it is. And this 
illustrates the truth, that the Holy Spirit, in His 
mission, fully identifies Himself with the human spirit 
and faculties. 

He does not use men as we use vessels or maga- 
zines. But the law of His intercourse with them is 
the law of personal influence. And it follows from 
this, that there is no possibility of a man being better 
than he knows of. If you are not daily conscious of 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 6$ 

feeling something divine within you, why then and 
most surely, nothing divine is growing within you. 
Unless your own hand is cultivating Christian charac- 
ter, rest assured that no other hand is doing this for 
you. Truth is not increasing within you, unless 
through the purpose and painstaking of your daily 
life. 

So of righteousness, so of goodness. All these are 
human attributes. Every increment of them is an 
increment to the moral stature of man, and it comes 
as the cubit to the bodily stature comes, through the 
intelligent and continuous use of means by the human 
agent. These fruits of the Spirit are not so many 
abstract qualities, stored away in human nature under 
the cover of imputed righteousness, ready for the 
muster of the Judgment Day. They are all so much 
human character which men have chosen, for which 
they have striven, unto which they have attained. 

My hearers, as I said before, I pretend not to ex- 
plain the congress of the Divine and the human spirit. 
But this is sure. He, the Divine agent, perfectly 
identifies Himself with the nature into which He 
comes. He does not remain in that nature a second, 
alien, recognizable force. He hides Himself behind 
the powers of man. He works only through these 
powers. The only sign and proof of His activity is 
human activity, for He works within man that which 
is human, not that which is divine. 

And so, because He works through you and not 
simply in you, you will always be able to know when 
He is doing His work for you ; and, at last, you will 



70 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

find the sum-total of your spiritual wealth to be that, 
and that only, which, with your own hands, you have 
earned and laid up in store. Yes, with your own 
hands. I know that the force which moves them is 
not your own. Neither is that which strings the 
muscles of your body. But these muscles are your 
own. They do your bidding. So of the hands of 
your soul ; with which, if ever you are to possess 
them, you must reach out for goodness and righteous- 
ness and truth. These are human qualities. They 
are also the fruit of the Spirit. 

But once more, and a third truth. The results of 
the Spirit are always in perfect harmony with tJie in- 
dividuality of man. Identified in His activity with 
the powers and faculties of the human soul, the re- 
sults of His presence in the soul are ever in the line 
of personal development, always in harmony with that 
unique assemblage of faculty, force, tendency, to which 
we give the name of personality. 

By this, it is not meant that men are not greatly 
changed through and by the Spirit's work. They 
are so changed ; but each is changed so as not to 
disturb the peculiar balance, shaping, likeness of 
the individual. Peter grew, changed, ripened under 
Christ, but still was Peter. Divine grace did its 
work for him without trenching upon his individu- 
ality. So with John. The Spirit's work for him was 
only the filling up with grace of that sweet vessel 
which men called John. The vessel remained un- 
changed. Individuality was sanctified, not sacrificed. 
The stream of personal being was widened, deepened, 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT *}\ 

purified, but still was led forward with perfect con- 
tinuity. 

And here I bring before you this truth for its prac- 
tical worth. It is profitable for instruction. Many a 
person has entered upon the religious life, saying, as 
he did so, " Now I am done with the peculiar violence 
of that besetting sin : my conversion puts that behind 
me." But he is not done with it. The Spirit does 
not at first or at once neutralize the vicious, the de- 
mon impulses of corrupted blood. Moral suicidal 
tendencies are inherited as truly as physical. The 
coroner's jury brings in the verdict, " Suicide by 
hanging." The community listens and says : " His 
father did the same before him." The community 
pauses, and again says : " It must run in the blood." 
And it does. The man was born into the world 
with his hand clutching his own throat. 

Look at the godless lives which fill the cesspools 
of your city. In the great majority of cases, their 
parents were such before them. All that many of 
them inherited, morally, was blood that burned, and 
an impulse hell-ward. So according to the Divine 
Word, and by an immutable law, the iniquities of the 
father are visited upon the son. So it happens that 
one sinner destroyeth much good. So are all the 
evil bound together in a horrid sodality for ever. 

And now, when the Spirit comes unto such an 
inthralled wretch, He comes not to place him on a 
level with the pure man, who stands upon the summit 
built up by generations of holy lives. This would be 
to smite law in the face, — to pour contempt upon 



72 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 

righteousness. But the Spirit comes to such a one, 
bringing, bearing with Him, the possibility of victory. 
He comes, and, as he enters the human heart, He 
exclaims : " Fearful as are the odds against you, God 
is for you, and you may overcome. Victory, victory 
over yourself, which shall send a thrill of joy through 
highest Heaven, — this is within your reach, this 
you may have ! " 

So it is throughout all the sphere of moral regen- 
eration. The Spirit does not trench upon individu- 
ality, neither does He at once destroy the inertia of 
character already formed. If a man has been going 
down-hill before he accepted the Divine Spirit, — and 
what man has not ? — why then his path must be up- 
hill from that moment. How can it be otherwise ? 

Suppose a man, in the presence of human want and 
the cross of the self-giving Saviour, has been for 
years miserly clutching all his gains, both well-gotten 
and ill-gotten. Is there not a fearful inertia in the 
set which such fingers get ? Has not such sin a 
penalty which must be wrought out, which the sinner 
must work out through tears and groans and blood ? 
Ay, this is the only way he can be taught the fearful 
inertia of sin. This is the only way in which man 
can be redeemed without dishonor to the nobility of 
his free will. The only background, this, upon which 
the splendor of Divine justice may reveal itself to 
mortal eyes. 

My hearers, true it is, as that God made and gov- 
erns you, that you must suffer for your sin. Although 
your soul be saved, yet must you suffer. The lust 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT 73 

which you now hide in your heart, which you now 
gloat over, shall leave you, if ever it is expelled, as a 
red-hot ball, searing, scorching, burning its pathway 
outward. You hang now the walls of your soul full of 
vile things, thinking little of it. But I tell you, long 
after you have wished them gone, long after your own 
hands have removed them, their ghosts will glare 
upon you, to startle and terrify your struggling spirit. 

An impure man does not become pure at once. A 
tricky, slippery, dishonest politician is not at once 
changed into an honest man. The Divine Spirit per- 
forms no such miracles, works no such magic, treats 
men in no such machine-way. He never dishonors 
the grand glory of virtue and of a virtuous life. He 
writes expiation upon the cross, but He also writes it 
upon the human life. He shows to many a man no 
other path to Heaven, save the one which is arched 
with these words, " Resisting unto blood." 

Learn, then, the conclusion of this matter. The 
Spirit does not and will not save you by changing 
you into somebody else. He does not neutralize and 
destroy the sinful passions which you have been 
cherishing. No ; but He comes as a Divine friend 
to save you from them by inspiring, by supporting, 
by crowning with victory, the fight which you make 
with your sinful and ugly self. 

As such, I pray you, receive Him. As such, I be- 
seech you, bid him enter into your heart. Hence- 
forth, make loyalty to Him the supreme law of your 
being. And so sure as God has, through the cross, 
wrested victory from sin, so surely shall you stand up, 



74 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

upon this earth, and day by day lift your life upward, 
lift it upward until angels shall sing it welcome, and 
God, almighty and all-loving, fold it in His everlast- 
ing embrace. 

Let us draw from this subject, my hearers, these 
encouraging and practical truths. First: there is 
hope, there is the possibility of moral victory, for 
every man. I believe that corrupt blood runs down 
the generations. I believe and I know that there are 
inherited passions and impulses fearfully strong for 
evil in many a human life. I believe, and am per- 
suaded, that every thing else is against some men, 
except Infinite love, except the Divine Spirit, except 
God. But upon every man's side, as Divine and 
Almighty friend, God stands ; and this means for 
every man a chance, this means for every one of us 
the possibility of victory. 

In the drifting sands of the vilest heart, the Spirit 
is able and willing to bring forth the fruits of goodness 
and righteousness and truth. There is hope, then, 
for us all. Look, I pray you, my hearers, unto this 
hope, for it is your only one. Men are daily going to 
pieces around you. MoraL shipwreck is as common 
as financial ruin. You are weak. There is no help 
for you, but in God. There is no hope for you but 
in God. One passion or another will surely murder 
your immortal soul, unless Divine love takes you to 
its bosom, unless Divine power defends you. 

And this Divine love, this Divine power, how near 
they are to you ! As near to you, as is the great 
ocean to the island which it surrounds, ready to rush 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 75 

into every open door of your heart. " Behold, I stand 
at the door." Ay, nearer still. As near to you as 
are the gifts of parents unto the children whom they 
love. " If ye then being evil, know how to give gifts 
unto your children, how much more shall your Heav- 
enly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask 
Him?" 

Secoiidly : we gather from this subject the neces- 
sity of human co-operation in the salvation of the 
human life. God did not wait for men to ask His 
love. No ; but he gave it, as He gave the sunlight in 
the great beginning. Christ did not wait for men to 
ask for His death. But He went to the cross im- 
pelled only by His most wonderful love. The Holy 
Spirit, too, has not waited for your request, but of 
His own free will has come unto you. 

What now ? God has loved you ; Jesus has died 
for you ; the Holy Spirit has presented Himself at 
the door of your heart. What now ? Are you 
saved ? Oh, no ! All must stop here ; all these won- 
derful movements of Divinity towards you, all these 
wonderful outlays of Divinity upon you, must go for 
nothing, — unless, unless your penitent soul replies : 
" Father, love me still ; " " Jesus, Saviour, have mer- 
cy ; " " Blessed Spirit, help." 

So near has salvation been brought to you ; so 
absolutely necessary is action on your part now. 
And oh, think of it, I pray you, the great guilt, the 
withering shame, of those who shall awake in eternity 
to find that they have destroyed themselves ! And 
that, too, in a world over which an Infinite Father 



?6 THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT. 

bends, — upon which, red with sacrificial blood, stands 
the cross of the Saviour, — and through which, as the 
air of Heaven, moves the ever-blessed Spirit. 

One word more, as the conclusion of this mighty 
theme. It is the teaching of Scripture, that there is 
a limit beyond which the needful help of the Spirit is 
impossible to man. " For if we sin wilfully after 
that we have received the knowledge of the truth, 
there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." 

" There is a line, by us unseen, 
That crosses every path ; 
The hidden boundary between 
God's patience and his wrath." 

The substance of this truth seems to be this. A 
certain amount of moral obliquity, a certain fearful 
piling up of known evil and conscious disobedience in 
the human soul, crowds out of the soul for ever all 
sense of the need of God, and, with this sense, all help 
from God, and all hope of salvation. 

But, my hearers, I have no heart, no desire, to en- 
large upon this truth. God knows it is sad enough 
and awful enough just as it stands. 

" Oh, where is this mysterious bourne, 
By which our path is crossed ; 
Beyond which, God Himself hath sworn, 
That he who goes, is lost ! " 

Where, O Divine Spirit, is the line across which 
thou canst not follow the needy and sinful soul ? 
Where, oh where, is that point beyond which Infinite 
Power, Infinite Love, Infinite Patience may not go 
with a man ? 



THE MODE OF THE SPIRIT ff 

In anguish for our unsaved friends, we lift our faces 
to the sky, and cry : " Where, oh where, is the dead- 
line of the immortal soul ! " And, while we listen, 
for reply come only these words : " Grieve not the 
Holy Spirit of God ; " " To-day, if ye will hear his 
voice, harden not your heart." 



VI. 

THE HIDDEN LIFE. 
"And your life is hid with Christ in God." — Col. iii. 3. 

PWO general remarks. First : to hide the life 
- 1 - with Christ is to hide it in God. Your life is hid 
with Christ in God. Secondly : the word " hid " in 
the text is metaphorical for faith. To hide the life 
with Christ is by faith to commit it unto His keep- 
ing. But the metaphor of the " hidden life " is strong 
and beautiful, and so let us retain it in our present 
consideration of the text. 

All life, of all kinds and in all stages, is more or less 
hidden. It is so in its source. This is hidden from 
human eyes. Men, the wisest among them, stand 
gazing upon the stream of life to-day, as for centuries 
geographers stood gazing upon the great river of 
Egypt. They see its currents as they pour them- 
selves along ; they can mark its course ; they can note 
its termination : but its beginning they cannot see. 
It flows in upon their view from an unknown 
fountain. 

How diligently for centuries have physiologists 
searched for this fountain in the human system ! 
Now, along the nerves, as, quivering with life, they 
dart throughout the body, or coil themselves in folds 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 79 

within the brain. Now, along the arteries, they have 
sailed from the heart to the remotest part of the body ; 
thence back again on the venous current : still no foun- 
tain, no mysterious spring from which the life bubbles 
up, no inner sanctuary where the life begins to be in 
the sight of the human eye. 

And this is true of all kinds of life, of vegetable and 
of animal, of mental as truly as of bodily, and of 
spiritual life as truly as of either of its kindred forms. 
In all cases, the fountain of life is a hidden one. The 
most we can say is, that a river of life flows forth 
from the throne of God and the Lamb, — an unceas- 
ing, wonderful, world-filling stream. 

The development of life is also hidden. " Thou 
knowest not how the bones do grow in the womb of 
her that is with child." So declared the wise man 
thirty centuries ago. And, if he were to-day alive, he 
might speak unto the proudest philosopher of the 
earth in the same words, " Thou knowest not." Many 
hidden things have been searched out since the day 
of Solomon, but this is one thing which has not been 
uncovered, — this process of growth, this mysterious 
development of life. It is still hidden. 

You drop a seed from your hand into the ground, 
and it grows. The germ of life which you planted 
unfolds itself ; and, standing by, you can note and mark 
the process, you can name some of the elements of 
power which have a hand in this process. But this is 
all that you can do. Beyond this, the development of 
life is as hidden from the eyes of man as it was in 
the day that the Lord God formed the herb, whose 
seed was in itself after its kind. 



8o THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

So, the prodigal in a strange land, passing by the 
door of the church, pauses to listen. The words of 
the old familiar hymn fall upon his ears. He hears 
the congregation within singing the lines : — 

" Nothing in my hand I bring, 
Simply to Thy cross I cling." 

And while he listens, the tears flow ; new and 
strange desires arise within his heart, and a new life 
springs up ; springs up to grow stronger and stronger, 
to rise higher and higher, until it is fitted for the com- 
pany of angels and of God. Who can explain the 
development of such a life ? No one but the Spirit of 
God, who breatheth where He listeth, and whose 
breath is the life of the soul. 

Then life, as a result \ is hidden. Life, as you have 
it, with its cares and aims and hopes and fears ; life, 
as you have grown it within your heart, as it is there 
to-day. What one around you looks in upon this ? 
Is it not hidden ? — hidden from your dearest friend, 
from your nearest relative ? Is it not a secret between 
you and God ? What one around you scans the 
secret workings of your desire and will ? What 
human eyes have ever penetrated the inner sanctuary 
of your being, where your true self holds its all fate- 
ful interviews with good and evil ? No : each one of 
us holds his life a secret from all others. The heart 
knoweth its own bitterness. It also knoweth its own 
sweetness and goodness, and in either case the 
stranger intermeddleth not. 

May these remarks upon the mystery of life in 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 8 1 

general, prepare you in some degree for the considera- 
tion of that life which is hid with Christ in God. 

That life, I remark first, is hidden from the pursu- 
ing sente)ice of the Divine Law. All law which is 
worthy the name is engaged in an eternal quest for 
the wrong-doer, for the life which has violated its 
demands. You may see this illustrated on the lowest 
level. Take the case of the man who violates the law 
of health. He may do this in either of two ways, — 
by overwork, or by over-indulgence of appetite. It 
matters not. So soon as the law is broken, armed 
with its sentence of condemnation, it starts in pursuit 
of the criminal. 

And now behold the victim in his attempts to elude 
pursuit. Now, he flies from his native land, across 
wide seas. Now, he calls in the aid of the physician 
to shelter him from his pursuer. Then, again, he 
throws from his shoulders a part of the heavy load 
which he has been carrying, thinking to hide behind 
this. And so, in these various ways, the criminal 
escapes for a time the vengeance of the pursuing 
law. 

His guilty life hides itself, it may be, for many days. 
But the day of its discovery hastens apace. Law has 
a sharp eye, and it tires not day nor night. Sooner 
or later, it is sure to come up to its victim, and drag 
him forth from his hiding-place. The violator of law 
must meet the sentence of law. For the intemperate 
man, waits the trembling nerve, the crazy brain. For 
the overworked man, comes the day of weakness, when 
thought no longer holds together, and will and pur- 

6 



82 THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

pose totter on their thrones. The violator of law can 
hide but for a short period. Onward and still onward, 
as certain and as resistless as destiny, comes the out- 
raged law. 

Take this other law, " The hand of the diligent 
maketh rich. ,, It has a sphere wide as human activ- 
ity, an application wherever there is a human life. It 
conditions all progress, all success. And it is violated 
in a hundred ways. The lawyer trusts to his smart- 
ness, and prepares not his case. The physician closes 
his books, and, what is worse, sometimes his eyes. 
The minister escapes from the hard work of sermon- 
making, and trusts to the inspiration of the Spirit. The 
man of ease lies abed of mornings, and allows his busi- 
ness to take care of itself. The young man who 
ought to be bearing the yoke in his youth, clothed in 
fine attire sits yawningly at his desk for six hours out 
of the twenty-four. 

And all these escape for a time. They hide their 
life. The congregation says of the exhorter, " How 
fluently he speaks. " The lawyer is praised for his 
brilliancy. The indolent doctor makes some astonish- 
ing cures. The fast young man has his day when he 
shines in the German, and sets the fashion to the 
street. So, I see all these hiding from the vengeance 
of a law which is pursuing, and which is as inexorable 
as death. 

But onward comes the law, as full of eyes and wings 
as Ezekiel's vision, and the hidden culprits one after 
another are dragged forth. And now I look again, 
and behold a tombstone in place of the tailors mani- 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 83 

kin. I see the exhorter without a congregation, the 
quack without a patient, the lawyer without a client, 
and the business man stranded upon the reef of some 
poor clerkship. The law has found its victims, dragged 
forth their hidden lives, inflicted its sentence. 

And as in the physical realm, so in the moral 
realm. The law of God is in continual search for the 
transgressor. Here, too, men hide for a time. The 
man who uses God's day as his own, without once 
turning his eyes upward to Him who gives him all his 
days, — why, he prospers. He grows richer and richer 
continually, so that men marvel, and exclaim, " What 
a wonderful man ! See how he adds house to house, 
farm to farm, business to business. ,, And all this 
time the man imagines himself hidden from the pur- 
suit of God's law. He conceives that he has eluded 
its vigilance. He is almost proud to believe that by 
his superior force he has made himself an exception in 
the moral world. 

So I see him go forward, until very suddenly Death 
blocks up his way. And now he is at bay. Death is 
before him, and behind him, on his track, is the law of 
God which he has violated. And how pitiless is the 
dragging forth of the life which he imagined hidden ! 
Out of the stuff which he has heaped around him, out 
of his increased riches, the hand of the outraged law 
drags him, and, in a remorse which strikes its fangs 
into the very vitals of the soul, inflicts its sentence. 

Take a more general case. The Cross is before the 
man, — God's law of life and salvation. Yet the man 
will not lift his eyes to it. In its very presence, he 



84 THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

restrains prayer. In its very presence, he profanes the 
name of the God who made him. In its very pres- 
ence, and with its crimson drops falling upon him, he 
gives himself to gold, to ambition, to pleasure; as 
though these things were the chief, the only care of 
an immortal soul. 

And his life seems hidden. No lightning leaps 
from the outraged Cross to scorch and scarify it. 
Its drops of blood turn not to drops of fire upon his 
head. Every thing is smooth and pleasant. The 
Almighty Father, above the cross of His dear Son, 
beholds, but keeps silence. So days pass away, and 
years. Youth gives place to manhood, and old age 
follows on, and still the neglected Cross rises silent 
and patient before the impenitent life! 

But now a change comes. Human desire fails. 
Human strength comes unto its end. And now the 
man, done with earth, raises his eyes towards that 
Saviour who alone can guide him to heaven. But 
alas ! alas ! these eyes are blind. So long bent upon 
earth, they are now sealed to spiritual things ; and the 
Cross once so near the bleeding Saviour, once so dis- 
tinctly seen, is nowhere to be found. 

In dismay, the anxious soul sweeps the whole horizon 
for help, and no help appears. But instead, a solemn 
voice is heard chanting the refrain, " Too late, too late. 
The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and you 
are not saved." So, at last, is the impenitent life 
dragged forth from its hiding-place, — dragged forth 
by the hand of that law which proclaims, " He that 
believeth not the Son, shall not see life ; but the wrath 
of God abideth on him. ,, 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 85 

But turn we now to behold how securely the life of 
the Christian is hidden from the condemnation and 
sentence of the Diviiie Law, This law makes no 
exceptions, no more than gravity. It is as immutable 
as is the force which sweeps the stars along. The 
Christian escapes, not through being made an excep- 
tion, but by having a Saviour. The law has two holds 
upon every created life. First, it demands the fulfil- 
ment of its positive precepts ; and, second, it demands 
expiation for transgression. 

And now I see this law, armed with these two 
demands, pursuing the believer, — coming up to him. 
It is with the Christian the hour and power of death. 
"Your life has been very imperfect/' cries the law. 
" You have come short in many things," re-echoes con- 
science. And to these accusations comes the reply, 
" Too true, too true ! But I am not careful to answer 
in these matters. There is One who has fulfilled all 
righteousness, and my life is hid with Him." Then 
the next demand, " The soul that sinneth it shall die." 
And to this the Christian answers by pointing unto 
Him "who died, the just for the unjust." 

So the Christian meets the law. So his life is 
hidden from its condemnation and sentence. So it 
escapes because it is hidden with One who has met 
and expiated this sentence. So the law cannot lay a 
hand upon the believer's life. So the Christian, in 
the hour of earth's extremity, can sweetly sing : — 

" * Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are.' 

"My life, my treasure, my hope, my heaven, all 



86 THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

hid with Him, and they are safe, — safe for ever- 
more." 

The life which is hid with Christ is hidden from 
the despoiler. All life has enemies, its own particular 
enemies. The peach, the cherry, the plum, must each 
season fight their way to maturity. The life of each 
of these, and of all fruits, is ever menaced by its 
natural and determined foe. So is it in the sea. 
There life is preyed upon. So it is in the wilderness. 
Everywhere in the path of life stands the enemy with 
a drawn sword. 

And to this general law, human life furnishes no 
exception. It has its enemies, which lie in ambush 
upon every side. One of these is care. Care, which 
is poison in life's fountain ; care, which is the fly in the 
ointment ; care, which is the mote in the eye ; care, 
which is the worm at the root, — gnawing, gnawing. 

Another of these enemies is sorrow. 

" The fool hath said there is no God ; 
But none, there is no sorrow." 

As sparks fly upward, so unto sorrow man is born. 
Hearts are ever aching ; hearts are for ever breaking. 
The stream fed by human tears knows no drought. 
The dirge chanted by the mourners dies not out for 
ever, but in long and heavy waves moves down 
through the generations of men. 

Another enemy is sickness. The brain loses its 
elasticity ; the nerves grow flaccid ; manly strength 
lies down upon a bed of pain. Womanly beauty 
perishes in the fire of disease. There are thousands 



THE HIDDEN LIFE. 87 

upon earth who, with every day of this earthly life, 
say, " I am sick." There are thousands from whom 
every recurring evening brings the sigh, " Would God 
it were morning." Then there is poverty, when the 
problem how to find bread for the open mouth, be- 
comes a daily care; when the cupboard is empty, 
and the house is empty, and children cry, and moth- 
ers wring their hands in a helpless and measureless 
grief. 

My hearers, have you a life that fears none of these 
enemies, which none of these despoilers can fasten 
upon, hidden from them all ? Think a moment. 
Suppose, in addition to care, sorrow should come, and 
to sorrow should be added sickness, and with all these 
poverty should confederate. Have you a life which 
even this alliance could not reach unto, to destroy or 
to trouble ? 

If so, this life cannot be in the strength of your 
hands ; for these hands will succumb to such an attack. 
If so, this life cannot lie in the power of your brain ; 
for such power is weakness when so assaulted. If so, 
if your life is safe, it cannot consist of your abun- 
dance, is not in your bank balance, or in your stocks or 
real estate ; for all these forms of life may receive their 
death at the hands of your life's enemies. If so, if 
your life is safe from all these assaults, then it must 
lie beyond the joys, the purposes, the employments 
and ambitions of this \^orld ; for these enemies which 
are on your track shall swallow down every form of 
earth-born power. 

My hearers, the truth here is as plain as a picture. 



88 THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

You need God. There is but one life which none of 
these despoilers of humanity may hurt or find. It is 
the life which is hid with Christ. Let sickness come ; 
but it cannot lay its hand upon the inner man. Let 
sorrows be multiplied ; but they shall not find the life 
which is hidden with Him, in that land "where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary be at 
rest." Let poverty come ; and yet it even shall have 
no power to trouble the life which is hidden with 
Him whose are the heavens and the earth. 

Brethren, my hearers, every day of my life almost, I 
see or hear of some poor human life hunted down by 
some one of its remorseless enemies. Now, it is sick- 
ness, and the strong man must drop out of the ranks, 
and lie alone within the shadows, his occupation all 
gone, his life's joy all gone, his ambition all gone. 
Now, it is sorrow, which, like a black cloud, shuts out 
the light of the human life. Now, again, it is Death, — 
Death pronouncing upon all the accumulation of years 
this fearful sentence, " Contraband in the realm to 
which I carry you." 

Brethren, it is a pitiful sight this, of a human being 
losing its all at the hands of enemies which it is 
powerless to fight. And if this be a pitiful sight, then 
it is equally pitiful, the spectacle of a man who is 
hourly exposed to this complete and irreparable rob- 
bery. Is this the case with any of you ? If so, oh, 
hear it, — hear, as if you never heard it before ! You 
may hide your life, — hide it so deep and safe in the 
Saviour that not a hand of any despoiler shall ever 
rob you of it, — hide it so securely in the power of an 



THE HIDDEN LIFE, 89 

Almighty Keeper that it shall be yours with usury 
unto all eternity. 

But again. The life which is hid with Christ, is 
hidden from all liability and power of decay. This 
power is not a special enemy of man. No ; but it is 
something worse. It is the fearful condition of dis- 
advantage at which he must stand to battle with all 
the special foes of his life. Sickness may stand off 
from the human life, and say, " Let it be : it will soon 
wear out." Adverse fortune may fold her hands and 
say, " Let him make his money : it will soon drop from 
his hands. Let him wear his honors: he will soon 
need a shroud." 

So decay is the general law, only not for the life 
which is hid with Christ. This life is the inner man, 
which is renewed day by day, even while the outer 
man perishes. It is the new building, which arises 
while the old is being taken down. The end of earth 
is only its beginning. It is that form of being which 
is never so strong, never so vigorous, never so full of 
life, as at that hour which men call death. 

I add, in the last place, that the life which is hid 
with Christ is hidden from all suicidal folly and dan- 
ger which might come from the believer himself. 
With the best intentions in the world, men mistake 
in the matter of the bodily life, and so shipwreck their 
health. So it might be in the moral sphere, if we had 
our life in our own hands. We might sell it for a mess 
of pottage. We might inflict serious, if not fatal, 
injury upon it, might expose it to our own loss. But 
not so, if it be hid with Christ. As we take valuable 



90 THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

gifts from the hands of children, and keep them 
against the day when they shall better appreciate 
them, so our life is hidden with the Saviour, that it 
may be safe from the folly of our own hands. 

My hearers, I have only these words of application. 
Decay is breathing upon your earthly life. Enemies, 
many of them, surround it. Not long, at the longest, 
can it escape. I ask you, then, have you any other 
hope, any other expectation, any other life ? Have 
you any thing up yonder, any treasure in Heaven ? 
Have you a life hid with Christ, independent of all the 
accidents of time ; safe from the law, safe from decay, 
safe from the suicidal folly of your own hands ? Oh, 
if not, I beseech you hide your life in the cleft heart 
of the Saviour to-day ! For this is Eternal Truth, It 
is only that life which you have so hidden, which is 
safe, which is truly yours ; and yours for evermore. 



VII 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

" For he endured, as seeing Him who is invisible." — Heb. 

xi. 27. 

r I ^HE word "endure" is very emphatic here. It 
-*- expresses better perhaps than any other word, 
what is called for by all true success in this world. 
It contains within itself these two ideas or elements : 
first, patience; second, stistained exertion. And 
these are ever the two qualities which lead on to 
great results. 

Go into the business world to-day, and ask the men 
of wealth how they came unto their present estate, 
and they will answer you, " We endured." Then turn 
to the learned professions, to the men who are at the 
head of these professions, and you will learn from 
them the same secret of success. Few, if any of 
them, vaulted at a single bound into their present 
elevated positions. But they came unto this height 
slowly, through long-continued and patient efforts. 
They endured, — endured hardness, endured defeat, 
and so are to-day winners and masters. 

Now take in the other expression of the text, " as 
seeing Him who is invisible." This also has its set- 
ting in the lower successes of human life. What 



92 THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

made the little shop-keeper endure ? Whence came 
this inspiration to him ? Why, he endured as seeing 
the invisible. He saw the invisible success, the in- 
visible wealth, the invisible palace store, which should 
cover a square and employ a thousand men. So the 
lawyer saw that which was invisible. He saw that 
invisible judge's bench, those famous opinions, that 
name of honor and renown. And so he endured, 
endured those long days of waiting and of working. 

And it is not otherwise in all the spheres of secular 
activity. Men are saved by hope. Their inspiration 
is drawn from pictured possibilities. They endure as 
seeing, because they see the invisible. They succeed, 
because they see what to other eyes is unseen. To 
them it is plain enough. 

Now, taught by these analogies, we ascend to the 
highest realm, and behold ! the principle by which 
human life wins is still the same. It is still a para- 
dox, — the sight of the invisible. That wrath of the 
Egyptian king. An ordinary man, a sensuous man, 
would have seen nothing else. Such a one would 
have said : " What, brave Pharaoh's anger ! He 
would be a fool who would dare such an attitude." 
And so such a one would have remained in the palace, 
dressed in soft raiment, and crumbled into the kingly 
ashes of oblivion. And this he would have done, 
saying, " I think I hit it nicely. What a lucky man I 
am ! There is nothing like a man keeping his eyes 
open ! " 

" His eyes open." This was just Moses' case. He 
saw so well, so far, that he beheld the invisible. 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION, 93 

Above Pharaoh's throne he beheld a greater and a 
loftier throne. In that region which is cloud-land to 
the man of sense, he beheld this throne rise until it 
overtopped the heavens. Upon this throne he beheld 
the Everlasting Ruler, the King of kings. And so 
Moses endured. He said, " What is Pharaoh, or what 
is a home in his palace ? Let his honors perish ; let 
his wrath come. I abide in the palace of the King 
Eternal, and my promotion is from Him." So Moses 
made his choice, and wore the crown of life. It was 
his far-reaching glance which did it all. " He en- 
dured, as seeing Him who is invisible. ,, 

My hearers, as you further dwell upon this general 
subject, let your minds run along the line of this 
thought. The sight of the invisible the true inspira- 
tion of human life. 

I remark first. It furnishes the necessary antidote 
and correctio7i of sense. Let us see how men live. 
Ten to one the beggar who was at your door last 
winter begging for bread will be there again this 
winter. And yet, between these two winters, there 
have been many possibilities within the reach of the 
humblest. These possibilities came with the spring, 
with the May-flowers in these shapes : first, of reduced 
necessities ; secondly, of opportunity for working. 

Why, then, will the beggar of last winter be the 
beggar of this winter ? What causes this continuity 
of incapableness ? The answer is, " These poor creat- 
ures live without forethought. " Through the long 
summer months they lie in the sun, as though there 
never was to be another winter. The squirrel runs 



94 THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

with his nuts, the ant lays up her stores. Both an- 
ticipate. Instinct in both takes hold of the invisible. 
But man, in whose head we say is reason, often lives 
for the present alone. His clothing is thin and in 
rags, but it is sufficient for summer ; and so he thinks 
not of getting better. He has no coal in his shanty, 
and no money to purchase it ; but coal is not wanted 
in July ; and January, — the man sees it not. He 
takes not hold of the invisible. 

But we need not stay in this low region of illustra- 
tion. Up above, the truth is still the same. Nothing 
differentiates men so much as this power to see the 
invisible. Call it what you will, genius, long-headed- 
ness, foresight, there is such a quality in human 
nature ; and there is its opposite, short-sightedness, 
an inability to pierce the future by a single shaft of 
thought or purpose. And men lose through this 
latter, and they win by the former. The men to 
whom the future is to belong are to-day pre-empting 
that future. Then, after a while, the drove of the 
ordinary, the crowd, will come up to this future, and 
be surprised to find it is all taken. You telegraph for 
a berth in the car or the boat. So the man of power 
telegraphs for his berth in the future, and it is made 
ready for him. The crowd around him wait until the 
future becomes the present, and then sleep on deck. 
Perhaps one of them happens upon a vacant sofa. 
, And as it is in the material, so is it in the moral 
realm. Here, also, the absorbing power of sense, the 
inability or the failure to take hold on the future, is 
man's greatest danger. Thousands all around us are 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 95 

living altogether forgetful, just as though there was 
no such thing as death or judgment or heaven or hell ; 
and for no other reason than because these things are 
in the future. They shut death out of their minds, 
because Death is not grinning in their faces. They 
ignore judgment, because it is a coming judgment. 
They disobey God, because they think Him a few- 
days ahead. 

There can be no doubt, my hearers, that tens of 
thousands are neglecting religion for this very reason, 
that they are wrapped up in the present, all forgetful 
of the future. To-day is full of honors, houses, lands, 
offices, dinners, wines ; in a word, full of the cares 
and profits and pleasures of sense : and the future, in 
which Death stands, and Judgment sits, and God 
waits, is all unseen. Is it not so ? Why, what does 
the Bible say, " Because sentence against an evil 
work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of 
the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil.' , 
What does reason say ? That no sane man could 
think upon his personal accountability to God, and 
the immortal life before him, and his life remain all 
uninfluenced by these facts. What does the experi- 
ence of the world say ? That these same careless 
persons become serious and alarmed, when Death 
takes hold of them. In the latter day, " they con- 
sider perfectly." 

And this, which I say is the ruin of so many, is the 
danger of us all. We are all exposed to peril here. 
The tendency of each one of us is to forget the great 
future in the little present, to live for this world 



96 THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

alone. Hence it happens that we so often succumb 
to temptation. Hence the frequency of our descents to 
the base and sensual level. To-day says, Sell me your 
birthright for this nice warm pottage ; and we sell. 
Fools that we are, we sell. To our ineffable shame, 
and to the disinheritance of our future, we sell. 

Such being our danger, from whence shall come 
our safety ? With this false and dangerous tendency, 
whither shall we look for a corrective as strong and 
as constant as is our perilous inertia ? The text says, 
To the invisible. The record of those who have con- 
quered says, To the invisible. Reason says, To the in- 
visible. We must come to take hold of unseen reality. 
We must come to walk by faith, to steer our lives by 
the polestar of God's infinite throne. 

And this will save us. Thinking of coming death, 
we shall prepare to meet it. Dying daily, we shall be 
able at last to die triumphantly. Anticipating the 
judgment, we shall bow to its voice in present law. 
Living as before God, we shall live unto God. In a 
word, seeing Him who is invisible, we shall endure 
as Moses endured, and conquer as Moses conquered. 

But we need more than remembrance, more than 
forethought here. We need besides knowledge, mo- 
tive ; besides light, we must have incentive. And 
this, again, comes from seeing the invisible. The 
same paradox here, is the law. 

Look at the case of Moses. Pharaoh's daughter 
offered him her name. This meant royalty, — Egypt's 
throne perhaps, — grandeur and power, the greatest 
on earth. Under these circumstances, did Moses 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 97 

need nothing more than knowledge of duty ? Why, 
knowledge cannot hold a man true to the right course 
under such a press of temptation, any more than the 
compass can hold back the ship from the rocks 
whereon the gale is driving her. Light ! we have all 
had it, and fallen again and again. Instruction ! pas- 
sion snaps its strongest cords, burns them to a crisp 
in a moment. But the invisible, " seeing him who 
is invisible,'* is more than a finger to point out the 
way ; it is also a strong hand to hold, and hurry us 
forward along that way. It is the angel of annuncia- 
tion telling Lot to escape ; it is also the angel of 
rescue pushing him out of the doomed city. 

In his stress, Moses looked unto the invisible, and 
what did he see ? A living God looking down upon 
life, its Lord and its Judge. And this glance, what 
did it for Moses ? It saved him. It showed him 
Pharaoh's throne in the light of the great White 
Throne. It contrasted Pharaoh's anger and God's 
wrath, Pharaoh's palace and God's heaven. And, 
when the tempted one saw all this, he was made 
strong, equipped for the struggle, ready to endure. 

So it shall be with you, my hearers, when you shall 
come to see " Him who is invisible." I suppose the 
strongest of all cases. Proffered success as great and 
brilliant as may be, abundant wealth, the dream of all 
your youth, the ambition of your manhood, honor so 
great that the sight of it dazzles, pleasure so sweet 
that it sets the blood on fire. And all this yours, if 
only you are willing to lay aside your morality, to 
forfeit integrity, and, like the bird of prey, to swoop 

7 



98 THE TRUE INSPIRATION, 

down to a lower level, to go in and win on your lower 
qualities. 

What is your safety, what your hope in such a 
crisis ? It is a glance upward to the invisible God. 
It is to catch the eye of the Judge who sentences for 
eternity. It is to hear Him, as he says unto you, 
" What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole 
world, and lose his own soul ? " This will save you. 
It will make you strong to endure. With God as a 
witness, you- will not sell your birthright for a mess 
of pottage. With God looking on, you will not lie 
down in the mire. With your face raised to God, 
you will lose sight of the temptation and stand. 

I know these temptations turn the head, bewilder 
the brain, set every thing whirling and spinning in a 
confused maze. So was it with the boy when climb- 
ing to the mast-head. But from the deck came a 
voice which saved him. " Look up, my son ! look up ! 
look up ! " The boy did so, and was saved. So you 
must do in the hour of your peril, look upward. A 
glance at the invisible will purge your vision, calm 
your passions, save your soul. For God's throne 
does not spin round ; the eternal star of duty flickers 
not, dances not, as it shines upon the bosom of His 
eternity. 

But the human life needs more than knowledge, 
more than motive even. // also needs encouragement, 
that encouragement which brings peace and makes 
duty a joy. This also comes from seeing Him who 
is invisible. In the hour of its danger, the human 
heart needs to hear a voice saying unto it, " Be of good 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION, 99 

cheer: victory waits for you, and the crown is ready.' ' 
I know that men perish for lack of understanding, 
hecatombs of them. I remember that human lives 
perish for lack of motive, untold scores of them. But 
even more perish for lack of sympathy in the hours 
which make up the crisis of their immortality. 

Ah, how many might have been saved, if in the 
hour of their temptation they could have felt a 
brother's hand laid upon their shoulder, and heard a 
brother's voice in their ears, saying, " Stand fast, 
stand fast : your loss will be more than your gain if 
you yield ! " But no such hand was reached forth to 
steady, no such voice of sympathy and love sounded 
out. It was midnight with them. Birds of ill omen 
flapped their wings in the heavy darkness. False 
lights (lighted in hell) flashed through the darkness, 
confusing the sight. The whisperings of temptation 
bewildered the ear. The coveted good just before 
them shone forth in radiant colors. And they were 
alone in this their hour and power of darkness. And 
so, with work all gone, money all gone, friends all 
gone, hope almost gone, the tempter triumphed, and 
the man, the woman fell. 

Ah, it is too true, my hearers ! Over many a one 
who has thus gone down in this world might be writ- 
ten this epitaph, " I looked around me : refuge failed 
me ; no man cared for my soul." But if, at such a 
time, the endangered ones could only have looked 
upon the invisible. If they could have looked into 
a realm of purity. If they could have seen the in- 
visible God, and by His side the Son who over- 



100 THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

came through the cross. This sight would have 
saved them. Sympathetic chords would have reached 
from the Eternal Throne to their failing faith and 
weakening hope, and along these would have flashed 
these words of encouragement and strength, " To 
him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in 
my throne.'* To him that overcometh, the victory 
shall be for ever. To him that overcometh, abound- 
ing, untempted, perfect life for evermore. 

So has many an endangered life been saved. So 
has many a tempted one endured. And so may you 
endure, my hearers. The sight of the invisible will 
save you. Save you by hope ; save you by encourage- 
ment, which it shall extend ; save you by the power of 
Divine sympathy. I am speaking to this point, my 
hearers. The sight of the invisible, the true inspira- 
tion of human life. It is so, because it affords a con- 
stant and strong corrective to the dangerous power 
of the seen and the temporal ; because it supplies the 
motive which is necessary to true life ; and because it 
feeds the human heart with that encouragement and 
hope without which no one is strong to endure, no 
one valiant to act. 

I must also add, that this sight of the invisible One 
must be the true inspiration, because of the immor- 
tality of human life. It isn't here that we come unto 
our growth. It isn't here that we reap any more 
than the first-fruits of our harvest. No ! Ours is 
the endowment of an endless life, and the stake with 
us is not time, but eternity. It must be, therefore, 
that we need, that we cannot do without, the inspira- 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION. IOI 

tion which comes from the unseen realm, — from the 
invisible God. We, who are going unto God, cannot 
safely guide our lives, save by the sight of God. We, 
w T ho are to dwell above the stars, may not direct our 
course by any thing beneath the stars. Our immor- 
tality lays this upon us a necessity, the obligation to 
live as immortals. It points us, with an unerring 
finger, to the true source of inspiration, the invisi- 
ble God, unto whom it binds us in the momentous 
relation of everlasting life or of everlasting death. 

And then, so many have conquered in this way. 
Read the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the 
Hebrews. It is the roll of honor written by God's 
own hand. Upon this imperishable page are written 
the names of those of whom the world was not wor- 
thy. And right beneath their names is inscribed the 
secret of their victory. " And these all, having ob- 
tained a good report through faith." Faith it was — 
this long foresight which takes in and draws inspira- 
tion from the unseen world — which lifted them to 
their high pre-eminence, and made God, their Maker, 
well pleased to write down their names for the ages. 

And so it has been since their time. In many a 
sick-room, wasting away day by day ; in many a work- 
room, with fingers worn to the bone,— there have lived 
those who have triumphed through this sight of the 
invisible. Italy's plains, Italy's mountains, Italy's 
catacombs, are full of the ashes of such. They braved 
infernal Rome, they laid hold of eternal life, ani- 
mated and sustained by the inspiration of which we 
speak. They endured as seeing, because they saw 
Him who is invisible. 



102 THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 

And now, my hearers, I lift up out of this great 
subject, and place plainly before your minds, these 
two inferential truths. 

First. A warning to the life of sense. In the name 
of this momentous subject, I say unto you, distrust 
your life, if it is lived out of all conscious relation to 
the unseen world, and to the invisible God who rules 
over that world. It matters not what you may be in 
other relations. You may be an honored citizen. 
You may be just in all your business affairs. You 
may be true and pure in your social relations. But 
if your life is cut off from the unseen world, if it 
catches no glimpse of Him who is invisible, it lacks 
the inspiration necessary to the great success ; it is, 
and must be, false and unsafe. While God lives and 
rules, no creature life can afford to ignore Him. While 
human life continues to be assaulted by the world, 
the flesh, and the devil, it is not possible to endure, 
save by a sight of Him who is invisible. While 
shoals and rocks threaten, no man can steer safely 
over the sea of life, unless he daily takes his observa- 
tion in the light which falls from the throne of the 
invisible God. 

Secondly. How reasonable is that life of which 
faith is the dominant principle ! Is it not true, I ask 
'you, that death is to confer upon us citizenship in the 
invisible world ? What, then, more reasonable than 
that we should anticipate and prepare for this our 
sublime majority. Is there not a living and reigning 
God upon the infinite throne? And shall we not 
look upward ? shall we not draw inspiration from the 



THE TRUE INSPIRATION. 103 

sight of Him ? Shall we not live as before God ? 
And this is the life to which religion calls. And I 
declare unto you, my hearers, that, if you repudiate 
this life to-day, you repudiate not only obligation and 
safety, but you repudiate every instinct of prudence, 
and every dictate of reason as well. 

My hearers, the voice of this subject is ever this, — 
God lives and reigns. His law is dominant. There 
is a world grander and more lasting than this. And 
such is my message to you to-day. Oh ! then, to-day, 
catch a sight of God, the invisible One. If your life 
is right, this sight will but give you a fuller peace, a 
nobler inspiration. And if your life is such that a 
glimpse of the invisible God will disturb it, — why, 
better have it disturbed now than at a future and a 
hopeless day. For it must come — must come — this 
sight of God. 



VIII. 

FAITH CULTURE. 

" If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doc- 
trine, WHETHER IT BE OF GOD, OR WHETHER I SPEAK OF 
myself." — John vii. 17. 

TT is quite possible for any one of us to go out on 
-*• the street, and by a number of rapid and unnatural 
revolutions of the body, so to confuse the brain, that 
all the objects around us, and even the solid earth be- 
neath our feet, will seem to dance before our eyes, and 
to w r hirl round and round in a most bewildering con- 
fusion. So, also, is it possible for a man to whirl round 
and round in an unworthy and bad life, until his 
moral nature is so confused that the most unmoving 
facts of the moral world will dance before his mental 
vision, and the very foundations of moral truth be 
broken up in a mocking, whirling, hopeless maze. 

But, in both of these cases, the disturbance is within, 
not without. It is in the eye which sees, not in the 
things which are seen. The dance is in here, not out 
there. The drunken man's pavement does not rise 
and fall, neither are the lamp-posts in the middle of 
the walk. The trouble is, that the man's brain is 
dazed, and his vision confused. Rum has turned the 



FAITH CULTURE. I OS 

world upsidedown to him. So in the case of the 
sceptic. His disobedience of moral law, the false and 
unnatural movements of his spirit, have set every 
thing whirling and spinning. Eternal verities now 
dance before his mind as so many unsubstantial 
fancies, only because his moral vision has been de- 
ranged. 

And the remedy in both cases is the same. Let 
the drunken man become sober, and he will see things 
as they are. Let the sceptic turn to duty, and he will 
come to know truth. " If any man will do His will 
he shall know of the doctrine. ,, In other words, if 
any man will live the life which he knows to be good 
and the best, this life shall anchor his soul to un- 
doubted truth. If any man will bow to duty, as it is 
revealed by the Saviour, the clear shining of this life 
will scatter doubts, as the rising sun scatters the mists 
of the morning. Give me your attention, I pray you, 
my hearers, while I endeavor to open up to you the 
fulness of this great fact and law. 

How can the impure man believe in purity ? Is it 
for his interest to do so ? Is it for his peace and hap- 
piness ? Would not such faith work as fire in his 
veins ? Would it not be a constant dagger in his 
soul ? How is it possible for the wilful transgressor 
to believe in and magnify the law, which is gathering 
its thunders above his head ? I tell you it is true, 
the old couplet : — 

" No rogue e'er felt the halter draw 
With good opinion of the law." 

Faith fails, and must fail, when life withdraws its 



106 FAITH CULTURE. 

support. But a short time ago, I heard of a man 
whose antecedents were religious and whose own 
freely formed relations are such also, who publicly, 
and with all seriousness, questioned the truth of human 
immortality. Do you ask, What shall be said in ex- 
planation of such a phenomenon ? Why this, — there 
is no mystery about it. Let that man continue a few 
years longer in political life (such as he makes it), let 
him continue a few years longer to grow rich amaz- 
ingly fast upon an amazingly small salary, and he will 
have no doubts upon the subject which he is now de- 
bating. He will then be sure that there is no future 
life ; probably also, that there is no God. 

How can such a man believe in Heaven ? Has he 
much interest in it ? How can he believe in Hell ? 
Has he not too much interest in this ? The truth is, 
the man has so abused his moral nature, so riddled it 
with transgression, that it is no longer capable of 
holding faith, — faith in a God who will punish sin. 
Faith leaks out of such a man, as water runs from the 
tub which has stood for weeks in the blazing sun. 

So there are scores around us whose immorality has 
made them sceptics. They have not grown beyond 
faith mentally, but they have sunk below it morally. 
Our city is full of young men, and of men whose 
youth is not so evident, whose present lives fall far 
below that of father or mother, or that of their own 
earlier days. Now, such often attempt to justify them- 
selves, and say, " We do not believe as we formerly 
did, and hence our license in life." But if they will 
look into the matter closely, they will find that they 



FAITH CULTURE. 107 

are putting cause for effect, and effect for cause. 
They do not believe as they did in that distant day 
and home : this is true, but it is because they first 
came to live as they did not there and then. First, 
the life was lowered, then the creed. First, practice 
was loosened, and then the creed was liberalized. 
They first trampled under foot a mother's example, 
and then into the same mire threw her Bible. The 
new crew was first received on board, and then the 
new flag was run up to the mast-head. They never 
thought of changing their views as to the obligations 
of the Sabbath until they had violated, or wished to 
violate, its sanctity. They cut the prayer-meeting out 
of their creed, after they ceased to attend it. They 
first neglected the church, and then laughed at it. 

Yes, my hearers, I fully believe, that, in nine cases 
out of ten, an explanation for weakened faith can be 
found in a disordered and weakened and false life. 
Search these persons out, and you will find that the 
atmosphere in which they live, and through which 
they look upon spiritual things, is by no means a pure 
one ; and this is the reason why they do not see moral 
truth clearly, and hold it firmly. One has thick- 
ened his atmosphere with a conscienceless greed for 
gain. Another, with a fierce and unprincipled desire 
for power. Still another has poured round her the 
thickening, dead-sweet nebula of silly and senseless 
pleasure, and from the midst of this she looks out 
upon spiritual things ; seeing them about as clearly 
as you see the leaves of the tree or the face of the suu 
through the medium of stained windows. 



108 FAITH CULTURE. 

But special and to my point is the large number of 
those who have never, for any length of time, received 
the benefit of continuous moral culture, — of that 
culture which comes not alone from the Church, but 
from the respective duties which rest upon every per- 
manent member of a community. Unfortunately, they 
have had money, and have travelled, — their summers 
at the watering-places, their winters in Paris. Or, as 
unfortunately, they have had no money, and have been 
driven from home to seek it. In either case, the re- 
sult has been the same, — moral vagrancy. Find 
these persons to-day, and many of them will laugh at 
the religious faith of those who have never seen the 
world. But what has seeing the world meant to 
them ? Why this : no Sabbath, no church, no Chris- 
tian activities, no responsible place in, or duties to, 
any community. 

Birds of passage they have been ; a life which no 
man or woman was ever made for. In other words, 
they have transgressed the normal conditions of 
human life, and their faith has suffered as an inevi- 
table consequence of this. Had they found a place in 
some community or other, — keeping a store, opening 
an office, holding a position of trust, going in and out 
before their fellow-men, in the performance of duties 
worthy to be done ; had they built up for themselves 
a home, had they taken upon themselves the respec- 
tive duties, which, in the home, in the Church, and in 
the community, God intended every man and woman 
should bear ; in short, had they lived a true, natural, 
healthy, useful life, — they would not to-day be either 



FAITH CULTURE, 109 

rejoicing or mourning over the loss of faith, they 
would not to-day be drifting upon a sea of doubt. 

Opposite to this is another illustration of the same 
truth. Many a one has swept away doubt after doubt 
with the strong hand of a good and useful life. Liv- 
ing the truth, they have come to know and believe in 
the truth. The morning of their life, like all morn- 
ings, had its mists and clouds, but the growing sun- 
light of a loving life has scattered them, and the 
noon is bright, — bright in itself, and bright with the 
prophecy of an evening, when the sun shall gently sink 
in a golden sky unspotted by a single cloud. " The 
path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth 
more and more unto the perfect day." " At the even- 
time there shall be light." 

So by human experience, so by example all around 
us, is justified the declaration, "If any man will do 
His will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be 
of God." But this law is by no means an arbitrary 
one. It rests upon reasons which are plain and all- 
sufficient. I mention some of them. 

First : a large part of moral and religious truth is 
practical, and cannot be known except through ex- 
perience ; that is, through living it. You can believe 
in London, — that there is such a place, without ever 
having seen it. It is a mere exercise of the intellect 
to do this. So you can demonstrate that the angles 
of a triangle are equal to two right angles. There is 
no need, no place, for experience here. But take this 
declaration, — a pure and good life is the happiest. 
How can you, how can any one, surely know whether 



IIO FAITH CULTURE. 

this is true or not until by experience you test it ? So 
Christ stands before the world and says, " Come unto 
me, and I will give you rest." But it is not possible 
for any one to know that this is true or not true, 
until he makes trial, — until he actually does come unto 
Christ. 

Or, take this declaration, — God hears and answers 
prayer. There is no way of putting this to the test, 
except by living a life of prayer. And this is the 
explanation, the justification, of the principle of the 
text ; because religious truth is not speculation, not 
mere dogma, but truth designed for the regulation 
of the life. You look upon a drug while the physician 
says, " It will cure headache." Now you may have 
an opinion that it will, but you cannot know it until 
you try the medicine. So Christ's service is medici- 
nal. He says unto men : " It cures heartache ; it gives 
peace." But you cannot hold this declaration in a 
shape worthy the name of faith until you have put it 
to the test of personal experience. You cannot say, 
" I know," until you do know ; and you can know only 
through life. 

And here let me say to those among you who, in 
the presence of neglected duty, are waiting for more 
light and stronger faith, that you will wait in vain. 
You may say, " If I believed all that the Christian does, 
I would commence." But I tell you that you shall 
never have more faith until you bow right loyally to 
the Right which you now see, to Duty already known. 
While you wait, while you refuse to accept her right- 
ful sway over your life, you will lose faith rather than 



FA I Til CUL TURE. 1 1 1 

gain it, and this all the while. The starving man 
may not wait for more strength before he takes of the 
food placed before him. If he does, he will die while 
he waits. 

Every day of your unworthy life has its vampire 
mouth sucking away the life of your faith. Every 
day that you deny to moral truth already known the 
obedience of your life, you do so much to obscure this 
truth. Out of every immoral and unchristian act a 
baleful mist will arise and spread itself over the shin- 
ing facts and laws of the moral world, and you will 
see them less clearly. Ever is it true, the law of the 
moral creation, that those who turn away from duty 
turn to wander in darkness. 

A second justification of the principle of the text is 
this, — spiritual things are spiritually discerned. So 
it is with scientific things. Newton was living in the 
atmosphere of science, with the faculty of observation 
in fullest exercise, or he would not have seen the 
apple drop. An accident you may call it. But it was 
an accident which could only have happened to a 
Newton. So always scientific things are scientifically 
discerned. A blind man would never have recognized 
Frauenhofer's spectroscopic lines. 

Now, there is in man a moral faculty which is set 
into relation with moral truth. There is a spirit in 
man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth un- 
derstanding. But this faculty, like all others, to be 
useful, must be exercised. The lapidary tells the 
quality of the stone by the touch of his tongue. So 
the tea-taster goes from box to box, by a single taste 



1 1 2 FAITH CUL TURE. 

fixing the value of the box. So the moral faculty, 
exercised in the direction of truth and duty, becomes 
quick and unerring to detect them. The conscience, 
like Ithuriel's spear, discloses falseness and error by 
a single touch. Many a man who is in no sense in- 
. tellectually great is yet wonderfully able to disen- 
■ tangle sophistry, to lift the truth which is covered 
over with error, to cut the path of duty plain and 
straight through the most tangled maze. 

You will readily recall here the old phrase of 
" threading the labyrinth." The one who desired 
to visit the dark and winding passages used to take 
the end of a spool of thread in his hand, unwinding it 
as he went into the maze. And when he desired to 
return to the light, all that he needed to do was to 
follow back his guiding thread. Now, to a good man, 
to an obedient spirit, conscience is this thread. Out 
of the darkest windings it leads unto the light. There 
is not that labyrinth of error on earth in which such 
a man can be lost. He will reach unto the day, as 
surely as the blind instinct of the cellar vine turns to 
the sun. 

I know faith is spoken of as the gift of God. But, 
like all other gifts of God, this has its condition. 
God can no more give it unto a bad life, than He can 
give beauty and sweetness to the flower which never 
sees the light, or bone and muscle and strength to 
the man who will not allow food to pass his lips, or 
riches to the idler and the spendthrift. He gives 
faith, but upon the condition that a man embodies it 
in life as fast as received. " He that doeth His will 
shall know of the doctrine." 



FAITH CULTURE. I13 

I turn now to make some applications of this sub- 
ject. First : it furnishes a solution of the scepticism 
of some men of science. We will not deny to the 
scientist of this class any thing that he may claim, — 
impartial observation, sharp mental faculties, a clear 
and faultless logic. And now when such a one comes 
forth from his laboratory and says, " I find in the laws 
of affinity, in the deposits of past ages, in the struct- 
ure of the human frame, no demonstration of a God," 
what do we say? Simply this. We never expected 
that you would. Your power of observation may be 
good, but human eyes cannot take in God as they 
can a fossil or a planet. They are not the organ of 
reception here. 

I pray you, my hearers, look at this for a moment. 
The Gospel invitation is, " Come and see. Duty 
leads in a plain path. Obey God, and you shall 
know God." And, hearing this, the scientific sceptic 
turns his back upon duty, restrains prayer, ignores 
Christ, and cries out, " Where is the God you speak 
of ? I do not see Him ; I do not feel Him ; He is not 
in my crucible. He is not under the eye of my 
microscope ; He is not in the field of my telescope." 
This is very much as if you asked a friend to come 
with you to the window to see the glory of the setting 
sun, and he should turn and butt up against the wall, 
crying out, " I see nothing : where is it ? " 

A man who would come into the presence of God 
must walk the path which leads unto this presence. 
There is a hill of science, and there is another hill. 
We say not, that the former commands not a noble 

8 



114 FAITH CULTURE. 

prospect. It does. Is well worth climbing. All 
that we affirm, and what the Bible declares is, that 
the outlook from it is not the same as that from the 
other hill called Calvary. Right living, not sharp 
thinking, is the condition here. As well might we 
expect the scientist to bring to us the colors of the 
rainbow in his closed hand, as to bring to us our 
God, our Heavenly Father, in the grasp of his hypoth- 
esis. It is the pure heart which sees God. It is 
the loving heart which feels God. It is the sincere 
and upright and obedient life that demonstrates God. 

Again : this subject also helps to discern the 
origin, and to determine the value, of another very 
common species of scepticism, which we may term 
popular in distinction from scientific. Many men 
who are prominent in public life are more or less 
sceptical. And it is to be feared that this fact some- 
times exercises a baleful influence upon younger and 
weaker lives. For such may be tempted to ask, If 
these things are true and important, why does not 
that man there, that Senator, that Judge, whose minds 
are much better cultured than mine, — why do not 
they receive and act upon them ? 

My hearers, — and I speak unto the youngest and 
weakest of you, — you must never allow such a ques- 
tion to trouble you. The explanation of the scepti- 
cism which you see is to be found in the life, all of 
which you do not see. You and I, if we had lived 
such lives as those men have lived ; if we had been 
as often and as long in the primaries where things 
are set up ; if we had for so long a time breathed a 



FAITH CULTURE. 115 

bad moral atmosphere ; if for years we had been 
going in to win, where winning is done through the 
lower qualities of human nature ; if we had so long 
neglected prayer, transgressed conscience, and ignored 
Christ, — we would to-day be just as sceptical as they. 
Does the murderer like to believe in ghosts ? Is he 
apt to believe in them ? No more does a man like to 
believe in truth which he has trampled under his 
feet, the upspurting life-blood of which he has often 
wiped from his face. 

I tell you, my hearers, in all plainness and solem- 
nity, that, instead of regarding the scepticism of these 
persons as a reason for doubting the facts and laws 
of the moral world, it should be with you the strong- 
est of all reasons for immediate and most loyal 
obedience to all duty, lest while you delay, and 
through the infernal alchemy of transgression, the 
light which is in you be changed into darkness. 

And this thought leads naturally to another appli- 
cation of the truth which we are considering. It is 
this, — the fearful danger which attaches to continued 
impenitence. This impenitence of yours, my hearer, 
this holding back from duty, is the slow murdering of 
your faith. Soon, it may be before you fear it, she 
shall drop dead within your soul, and you be left with- 
out an impulse to take hold upon God, without a 
motive to move you toward salvation. This is that 
moral state which the Scripture sets forth by the 
words " being past feeling." This is what is meant 
by " grieving the Spirit of God." This is spiritual 
reprobation, — moral death. 



Il6 FAITH CULTURE. 

I only add, as a closing application of this subject, 
that it is useful for direction to those who would enter 
upon the Christian life. The way to do this is not to 
wait for more feeling, not to delay for stronger faith, 
but to take up that duty or duties already known, 
already before you. Break off from your sins by 
righteousness, and from your iniquities by turning 
unto the Lord. Cease to do evil. Learn to do well. 
This is the one simple way to begin to be a Christian, 
and besides it there is no other. 

And, my hearers, if there is a truth in your mind 
to-day, which you have not put into your life, which 
you have not endeavored to put into it ; if there is a 
single duty before you which you have refused to take 
up, — then is it very plain why you are not a Chris- 
tian. And it is also clear that condemnation, com- 
plete and self-asserting, rests upon your guilty life. 

Finally : Before each of us to-night reach out two 
paths. One is straight and plain, and the light which 
falls upon it grows brighter and brighter unto the 
perfect day. It is the path of the just, the path of 
those who are willing to live the truth, and do the 
duty which they know. The other is the path of the 
wandering star, which, fallen from its bright orbit, 
wanders in darkness in " the blackness of darkness 
for ever/' It is the path of those who know their 
duty, but do it not. 

In which of these paths will you walk ? Of this be 
assured, — God has lodged within the sweep of your 
power both Christian life and Christian faith. You 
may crown them both, or you may crucify them both. 



FAITH CULTURE. WJ 

But this one thing is certain, — you cannot long retain 
faith, unless you embody it in a good and pure and 
obedient life. 

May He who is infinite in love and wonderful in 
working help you and me unto the double victory 
here, — unto the victory of the faith which knows no 
doubt, through the victory of that life which will 
tolerate no evil. 



IX. 

THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

" And when they were come to the place, which is called 
Calvary, there they crucified Him." — Luke xxiii. 33. 

HPHE International Sunday-school lesson for to- 
-*■ day is the crucifixion of our Lord. 

It is not too much therefore to say, that, during the 
hours of this holy day, tens of thousands will turn 
their minds to the consideration of the death of Jesus, 
the Nazarene ; that before the sun shall set hundreds 
of thousands shall pass before the cross, each one of 
them turning his eyes upon the crucified Redeemer. 
Let us, too, join the throng, with them to move unto 
the cross, with them to pause in its presence, and 
with them also to turn our eyes upon Calvary, — 
upon the strange victim, — to see the sight, to take 
that look, which through all time has had such won- 
derful influence over the mind and heart of man. 

Peradventure, this shall be a day of wonderful 
power in the moral world ; and perchance too, some 
of you, for the first time shall stand transfixed before 
the cross, discovering all at once, in the One who 
hangs upon it, your Saviour and your Lord. That 
this shall prove the result of this morning's sight, 
let every one of us lift up solemn prayer unto Him 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. 1 19 

whose prerogative it is to enlighten the eyes, and 
under whose touch the human heart becomes as the 
heart of a little child. 

I shall gather what I have to say to you this morn- 
ing, as you stand in the presence of the cross, around 
this form of statement — the death of Christ was an 
essential part of His earthly mission. 

Notice that I do not say that his death compre- 
hended within it all of this work. Doubtless there 
are many benefits which flow to the world from the 
life of Jesus. Take the Sermon on the Mount. No 
human mind can compute the mighty influence of this 
upon the world. " I say unto you, love your enemies, 
bless them that curse you, and pray for them which 
despitefully use you." Such words as these, falling 
century after century upon the human heart of mil- 
lions, becomes a factor of human history unspeakably 
grand. And had Jesus been translated to Heaven so 
soon as He uttered these sentiments, had He done 
nothing more than to speak these words, still would 
He have laid the hand of power upon all the cycles of 
this world's history, and proved Himself a benefactor 
of man, even down to the remotest generation. Still, 
this additional fact does not at all militate against the 
proposition which I announce, to which I ask you 
now to turn, that yesus'' death was an essential part 
of His mission of salvation. 

Go back with me twenty-seven hundred years and 
listen to the prophet of God, as, in words given him 
from on high, he sets forth the nature of the promised 
and the coming One. " Surely He hath borne our 



120 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

griefs and carried our sorrows : yet we did esteem 
Him stricken, smitten of God and afflicted." " But 
He was wounded for our transgressions, He was 
bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
peace was upon Him ; and with his stripes we are 
healed." " He was cut off out of the land of the liv- 
ing ; for the transgression of my people was He 
stricken. ,, 

Now, I ask you, my hearers, is this the picture of a 
great reformer merely ? Is it fulfilled, can it be ful- 
filled, in any mere teacher, however original, however 
great ? Does Jesus, as He sits" surrounded by His 
disciples, opening His mouth in words the freshest 
and the most influential which this world ever heard, 
does He fill out the picture of the prophet ? Draw 
near unto the scene of the Sermon on the Mount, to 
which I have already referred. Where are the wounds 
here ? the bruises ? the chastisement ? the death ? 
Where is any thing which answers back to that 
despised, to that rejected, to that smitten, to that 
dying One, photographed by the prophet ? There is 
nothing which does so. 

But, my hearers, I cannot dwell at any length upon 
this part of the argument. All that I do here is to 
point you, by means of one used as an example, to the 
prophecies of the Old Testament, and to assure you 
that they set forth a Christ who was to die ; that 
they even give a special prominence to the article of 
His death, as a substantial part of His earthly mis- 
sion. And I think it is not too much to say, that 
whoever be the individual, or whatever the church 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. 121 

which has a Christ who accomplishes His work for 
man apart from and without His death, such an indi- 
vidual, such a church, has not the Christ of prophecy. 
This Christ is One who must die, who fulfils His mis- 
sion to the world in and by dying. 

I pass to a second argument, which is contained in 
the fact that Christ was prefigured by the divinely 
appointed sin-offerings of the Jewish Church. These 
all pointed to Him, and all their virtue was in this 
on-reaching, this anticipated, significance. This is 
distinctly taught. No one can keep the New Testa- 
ment and dismiss the Old. If he takes the former, 
he must the latter. The historical Christ binds these 
two together, and the hand which would attempt dis- 
ruption here must tear in twain the living body of 
Jesus. He stands, reaching back to the Old, saying, 
" I came not to destroy, but to fulfil." Not a word, 
not a jot nor a tittle, shall pass from the Law and the 
Prophets. So He links Himself to the Old Testa- 
ment ; and the man or church who would have Jesus 
must take the First Covenant with Him. If the 
sacraments of the Jewish Church were heathenish, 
why, they are heathenism which the Great Teacher 
approves, to which He commits Himself, out of 
which He came, by which He stands for ever. 

But more particularly. Not only do the Old and 
New Testaments go together, but the sacrificial lamb 
of the former is declared to be one in significance with 
the Jesus of the latter. For centuries men had been 
bringing their sin-offerings unto the altar ; and now 
when Jesus appears, no sooner does Inspiration catch 



122 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

a glimpse of Him, than she cries out, " Behold the 
Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the 
world !" Behold at last God's Lamb, the One slain 
from the foundation of the world. Thus is it declared 
that in the sight of God, who knows of no such thing 
as past or future, there is but one sacrificial victim, 
but one lamb, and that this one was slain in every sin- 
offering of the Jewish Church. That is, these sin- 
offerings were types of Christ. They stood for Christ. 
And now the question comes up, How can this 
be so, if Jesus' death is not an essential part of His 
mission ? 

In imagination, stand for a moment before the 
Jewish altar. The lamb, spotless, perfect, it must 
be, is presented. The offerer places his hands upon 
its head. And now it bleeds, it dies. Now, my 
hearers, I ask you what is the significance, what is 
the one idea, of such a scene as this ? Is it not the 
forfeiture of life ? is it not death ? The lamb is brought 
forward, presented, for what ? Why, that it may die. 
The hands of the oEerer are placed upon its head, 
that it may be prepared for death. Every thing here 
looks to, tends towards, ends in, death. The one 
prominent thing here is the purposed, the formal, 
destruction of life. 

And now, how shall Jesus fill out this idea of the 
lamb, of the sin-offering ? There is but one way in 
which this can be done, and that is by His death. 
And I do not see how any individual, or any church, 
in view of the relation between Christ and the sin- 
offering, can support itself in the assertion that the 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. 12$ 

death of the Saviour was not an essential part of His 
saving work for man. Surely, it is not possible to 
find in a teacher, in a reformer, in a martyr even, the 
antitype of the flowing blood of sacrifice. 

And so long as the Old and New Testaments are 
so bound together, so long as we are distinctly taught 
that the sacrificial victim laid upon the Jewish altar 
was a type of the coming Saviour, so long are we 
compelled to regard the cross as an integral portion 
of the Gospel. You cannot get rid of the cross, save 
as you get rid of the Old Testament ; and you cannot 
get rid of the Old Testament without dishonoring the 
New : and so it comes to this, that you must either 
keep the cross or reject the Bible. And if you reject 
the Bible, where is Christ the Teacher, — the model 
man ? Why, He goes too ; for the reason of man will 
refuse to receive Him upon the testimony of a book 
already rejected, already proven a tissue of supersti- 
tion and exaggeration. 

But I pass to another argument. It is the impor- 
tance which all the Evangelists place np07i the death of 
the Saviour. This importance is clearly evident in 
the fulness and minuteness with which, in each of 
the Gospels, the cross is set forth. The Gospels are 
not mere duplicates of each other. They were writ- 
ten by different persons, for different classes, and 
with an especial purpose governing in the substance 
of the matter and the arrangement of each one of 
them. So you will often find that what one Evange- 
list records is omitted by all the others. Then again, 
in two of the Gospels, you will come across matter 
which is left out of the other two. 



124 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

Take illustrations. Luke alone records the para- 
ble of the Prodigal Son, and that of Dives and Laz- 
arus. Then as to the Sermon on the Mount. This 
is recorded with great fulness in Matthew, and nearly 
as full in Luke ; but you will search in vain for any 
portion of it in Mark or in John. Then for another 
illustration of this same fact or principle, consider the 
last discourse of Jesus and His intercessory prayer. 
John gives these, but neither Matthew nor Mark 
nor Luke makes even the slightest record of them. 
So I could illustrate in a score or more of cases. But 
these are sufficient. 

And now, I ask you, what is the meaning o£ this ? 
Does it not, at least, indicate to us the fact that not 
all of Jesus' words, not every one of His actions, 
not all of His life, had to be written in order to 
give the Gospel to the world ? Matthew must have 
purposed to give this Gospel to those for whom he 
wrote. Yet he omits two of the largest and most 
beautiful of the parables, and he leaves out altogether 
the largest and last of Jesus' formal discourses. The 
Holy Ghost must have said to him, " You can give 
the Gospel without these. These are not altogether 
important. Those who read your words will have a 
full Christ without them." 

But come now to the death of the Saviour. Mat- 
thew gives up one hundred and twenty -five verses to 
this subject. Out of his short book of sixteen chap- 
ters, Mark devotes two to the same event. Luke is 
quite as full as either Mark or Matthew, using about 
one hundred verses in setting forth the circumstances 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. 1 25 

of the death of Jesus. And John, writing long after 
the three Evangelists, when he might so easily have 
said, " The Gospels already written are so full and 
explicit upon the subject of the death of Jesus, that I 
will pass over it," — what does he do? Why, he fol- 
lows on in the same path, and details, even more mi- 
nutely than those who had written before him, all the 
circumstances which led to, and all the events and in- 
cidents which encircle, the cross. 

Now, I ask you, my hearers, is it not plain that the 
authors of the Gospels must have regarded the death 
of the Saviour as an integral, as an elemental, part of 
His mission ; such a part, indeed, as that the Gospel 
could not be given without it ? What, then, is the 
alternative ? Either the writers of the Gospels were 
mistaken, or we must receive the death of Jesus as a 
sine qua non of the Gospel. Suppose you take the 
first alternative, — the Evangelists were mistaken. If 
so, then who can tell how many other mistakes they 
made ? So the Gospels go, and Jesus, of course, goes 
with them ; for our Jesus is given to us through the 
Gospels. We must either, then, believe in a Christ 
who accomplished His work for man through His 
death, or else give up our Christ altogether. We 
must either receive the Jesus whose death is an 
essential part of His work for man, or reject both 
Christ and the Gospels together. 

I mention another argument upon this point, which 
is found in what we may call the Apostolic amplifica- 
tion and use of the death of tJie Saviour. Not only do 
the Evangelists give special prominence to the cross 



126 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

of Christ, but the Apostles, to whom was committed 
the duty of perfecting the system of Christian doc- 
trine, also do the same, — ever putting the cross, the 
death, the blood of Jesus in the foreground. Thus 
Paul speaks of " The Church of God, which He hath 
purchased with His own blood. " And again, in his 
Epistle to the Ephesians : " In whom we have redemp- 
tion through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins." 
So Peter speaks of " the precious blood of Christ as 
of a lamb without blemish and without spot." The 
Apostle John also declares, " The blood of Jesus 
Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin." And in 
the book of the Revelation this is the picture : the in- 
numerable company of the redeemed stand before the 
throne, praising God for their salvation ; and these 
are the words which they use : " Unto Him that loved 
us and washed us from our sins in His own blood." 

And now one more quotation in illustration. I 
take it from the Epistle to the Hebrews. " But Christ 
being come a high priest, . . . neither by the blood 
of goats and calves, but by His own blood, He entered 
in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal 
redemption for us. For, if the blood of bulls and of 
goats sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh, how 
much more shall the blood of Christ, who, through 
the Eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot 
to God." So full, my hearers, are the Epistles of 
Christ as a sacrifice. The crimson stream from the 
cross runs not only through the Gospels, but through 
the whole New Testament. They present no other 
Christ than the One who saves by His death ; and if 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. \2>] 

such an One is rejected by human reason or philoso- 
phy, there is no other which can be received. 

I pass to a fifth argument. Even if we suppose 
that the Evangelists and the Apostles could be mis- 
taken in attributing so much importance to the death 
of Jesus, it is not possible for us to believe that His 
mission was misunderstood, or that His work for 
man was uncompreheuded by the higher intelligences of 
Heaven. Well, there was a time in Jesus' life when 
two persons from this higher realm came to the earth 
to meet the Saviour and to hold converse with Him. 
These two were Moses and Elias, — one, the founder 
of the old economy ; and the other, its most dis- 
tinguished reformer. These two met the Saviour and 
talked with Him, amid the light and the glory of the 
Transfiguration Mount. 

And what was the subject which engaged the at- 
tention of these three, in this most wonderful con- 
gress ? Talked they of empires, of revolutions, of 
wars, of philosophy, of philanthropic scenes, of the 
miracles of Jesus, of His mighty works ? Did His 
teaching engage their thoughts ? Spoke they of the 
mighty effects of this, — of the additions yet to be 
made to it ? Not any nor all of these subjects received 
the notice of these celestial minds in this superior 
hour. Listen to the record : " Who appeared in glory 
and spake of His decease, which He should accom- 
plish at Jerusalem." Not the teachings of the Saviour, 
not the beneficent influence of His life, not His acts 
of supernatural power, but the death that Jesus was 
soon to undergo, — this filled the hearts, this engaged 



128 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

the tongues, of those who were fresh from the heavenly 
circle. Evidently, we have here given us the opinion 
entertained in the celestial world as to the necessity 
of Jesus' death ; and, according to it, this is decided, 
nothing was completed of benefit for man without the 
death of Christ. The cross was the culmination of 
Jesus' work. So Heaven thought so its envoys 
spoke. 

I pass to another argument. Jesus always regarded 
His death as a necessary part of His great mission to 
the world. " From that time forth," says Matthew, 
" began Jesus to show unto His disciples how that He 
must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of 
the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, 
and be raised again the third day." From that time 
forth. That is, Jesus began, thus early in His min- 
istry, to teach the necessity of His death, and continued 
in His iteration of it. So also says Mark ; so also 
Luke. All the Evangelists represent Christ as early 
beginning to prepare His disciples for the death 
which must come. And when Peter — no doubt with 
the best intention — began to reply, saying, " Be it far 
from Thee, Lord : this shall not be unto Thee," the 
Saviour interrupted him with one of the severest re- 
bukes ever uttered by Him : " Get thee behind me, 
Satan ; thou art an offence unto me ; for thou savorest 
not the things that be of God, but those that be of 
men." You take what is a low and an earthly view 
of my great work. You speak words which could 
come fitly only from the great enemy of man. 

And now, my hearers, the question comes up, Did 



THE DEATH OF JESUS. 129 

Jesus understand Himself ? Did He know for what 
purpose He came into the world ? Did He compre- 
hend His mission, and how it was to be accom- 
plished ? If not, how can any one of us believe in Him 
as a teacher? Shall we receive the words of a self- 
deluded man ? And if He did understand Himself, 
why, then, there is no escape : we must receive the 
truth, that His death was essential, — a substantial, a 
necessary part of His work for us and the world. 

I mention only one other argument, here, before I 
proceed to the practical use of this subject. This 
I find in the attendant scenes of the great crucifixion. 
Those three hours of unnatural darkness, — from 
twelve to three o'clock, — those three hours, in which 
neither man nor God was heard to speak, in which the 
spectators looked upon each other with blanched and 
ashen faces ; those three hours, in which the sun hid 
his light, and Nature lay as under a funeral-pall ; those 
three dark, still, awful hours in which the Saviour and 
Death met in conflict, — do not these point out the 
crucifixion, the passion of our Saviour, as an all-impor- 
tant, an essential, part of His great work ? Can you 
look upon the cross, as it stands up amid that fearful 
darkness, and say, " Oh, the cross is nothing. The 
Sermon on the Mount is Jesus' gift to the world." 

Then take the rending of the vail in the temple. 
This vail, as you know, hung before the holy of holies, 
separating it from the remainder of the temple. The 
high-priest entered it but once a year ; and he never 
entered it without blood, which he sprinkled both for 
himself and the people. That is, every access to a 

9 



130 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

holy God, on the part of sinful man, resulted in death. 
This was the truth taught by the vail : the high-priest 
died every time he entered the presence of God. But so 
soon as Jesus dies, this vail parts in twain from the 
top to the bottom. But if Jesus' death was not an 
essential part of His work, if His blood w r as not neces- 
sary to salvation, why did the vail hang thick and 
dark until this blood was shed, and why did it part 
asunder so soon as this blood was poured out ? My 
hearers, the lesson is plain : Jesus by His death pro- 
cured for us what His life could not, — pardon, justifi- 
cation ; free, safe access unto God. 

In conclusion, let me say. First : this subject is 
useful to teach the truth concerning the moral condition 
of man. It does so by teaching what this condition 
calls for in the way of a remedy. From the nature of 
this remedy learn the character of the disease. Our 
salvation called for it ; could not be accomplished ex- 
cept by the death of the Saviour. His teaching did 
not meet our great need. The power of His example 
was not sufficient for our restoration. His blood 
also was required. What, then, is sin ? Weakness 
merely ? Ignorance simply ? Surely not. If this 
were all of our trouble, there was no need of the 
cross. All that the weak need is strength. All that 
the ignorant require is more instruction. The blood 
of sacrifice is related to neither of these classes. 
What, then, is the conclusion ? Man is guilty as well 
as imperfect. There is wrath to come impending over 
this guilt, and there is no remission save through the 
shedding of blood. 



THE DEATH OE JESUS. 131 

Secondly : the truth brought out before us is useful 
in testing Christian experience. If the cross was an 
essential part of the Saviours work, then it must ever 
be an essential part of all true religious life. It must 
be wrought into this life. By this truth, test the 
profession of the moralist : " I am doing as well as I 
can." " I strive daily to govern my life by the pre- 
cepts of the Saviour, and I am sure that a loving God 
will not refuse to accept such a life." But, my hearer 
who art so trusting, what about the cross ? Your 
theory of religion, your experience, has nothing to do 
with the cross. If you are right, then Jesus Christ 
might have stepped back into heaven so soon as He 
had preached the Sermon on the Mount. But Old 
Testament prophecy declared that He must die. The 
voice of the ancient sin-offering declares that He must 
die. The Evangelists all unite in the declaration, Jesus 
must die. Moses and Elias from Heaven give their 
testimony, and say the Saviour must die. Jesus 
Himself affirms, " I must die." Yet you say that 
you are endeavoring to govern your life by the pre- 
cepts of the Saviour. You have never noticed the 
cross. Your religion has no use for its blood. Who 
is right, — you or the envoys from heaven ; you or the 
Evangelists ; you or the prophets ; you or Christ 
Himself? 

I beseech you, my hearer, make a way for, carry the 
crimson stream of sacrificial blood through the garden 
of your heart. After you have done the best, you are 
still a sinner ; and from whence shall forgiveness 
come to you if not from a crucified Redeemer ? What 



132 THE DEATH OF JESUS. 

can you do else with your sins, save to confess them 
upon the head of the Lamb of God ? 

Thirdly. This subject is useful to teach us the tme 
nature of faith in Christ. It is reliance upon Christ 
as our sacrifice. Let us do our best in the way of 
living, and yet we cannot but feel that we are sinners 
still. And it is at this point that faith comes in. The 
conscious sinner offers unto God the Lamb slain 
from the foundation of the world. He stands before 
the judgment-seat, while he says, " I am a sinner and 
Christ is my sacrifice. I plead guilty, and trust in 
His expiation." 

"Nothing in my hand I bring: 
Simply to the cross I cling." 

This subject is further useful in disclosing the nature 
of that hope which will not fail us in the hour of death. 
As sure as we know that we are sinners to-day, so 
sure will we feel that we are sinners then. And 
when we shall come unto this hour, no sight will re- 
joice our hearts save the sight of the wondrous cross ; 
and no hope support our souls save that which rests 
upon the sacrifice which was offered for the guilty 
upon that cross. 

Brethren, immortals, sinners, — you, with a great 
multitude, stand before the cross at this hour. Oh, look 
ye upon its bleeding victim, and this hour own Him 
as your needed, as your all-sufficient, as your gladly 
received, sin-offering. 



X. 

CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

"The Church of God, which He hath purchased with His 

OWN BLOOD." — Acts XX. 28. 

THINK you will all bear me witness, that, in my 
-*- preaching of the Gospel unto you, I have never 
given to the Church or to any religious form or cere- 
mony the place of first importance. To Christ as the 
only Saviour of men, and to a good life, as exemplified 
in his own career, and made the condition and test 
of discipleship to Him, — to these great questions, I 
have always endeavored to give all the emphasis 
which it was in my power to bestow. And I believe 
with all my heart, that, in this course and purpose, I 
am sustained by some of the strongest words which 
the Saviour Himself ever uttered, and by some of the 
clearest declarations ever made by His Apostles. 

But, although from the beginning to the end of His 
earthly career, the Saviour uniformly laid the first 
and chiefest emphasis upon a good life ; although it 
would be impossible for any one to mention a single 
statement of abstract truth, or a single rite or cere- 
mony, which He declared necessary to salvation, — 
still it cannot be doubted, that, for those who would 
be His disciples, He has made it very clear that the 



1 34 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

confession of His name must follow upon the faith of 
His person ; that it is out of the question, and out of all 
possibility, that He should have such a thing as a 
secret following in this world ; such a thing as a dis- 
ciple who is unwilling to avow himself as such. 

I have, therefore, thought it most proper upon this 
occasion, so closely preceding the communion Sab- 
bath, — the day in which the Church receives the 
largest accessions to her number, — to call your at- 
tention to this subject, — the claims of the Church 
of Christ upon us and upon all men. 

The first claim, here, is founded in the language 
of Scripture upon the subject of the Church. I do not 
believe that the Bible is High Church in this matter 
of the Church. It cannot possibly be that it is so ; for 
it ever speaks of the inward as important above the 
outward, elevates the power of godliness above the 
mere form of it, curses Phariseeism and lip service, 
and elevates, without baptism or other church service, 
at least one distinguished sinner into the joy of para- 
dise. Still, that the Bible has some very strong lan- 
guage on the subject of the Church is beyond a 
question. Take the statement of the text, " The 
Church of God, which He hath purchased with His 
own blood." Can you imagine a weightier testimony 
to the solemn importance, to the infinite value, of 
the Church ? I am ready to confess that I cannot. 
And can you imagine that the Church, whose value 
must be estimated in these awful words, for which 
such a price was paid, has no claim upon your atten- 
tion, upon your allegiance ? 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 135 

But take some other Scripture testimony upon this 
subject of the Church. " Can a woman forget her 
sucking child, that she should not have compassion 
upon the son of her womb ? Yea, they may forget ; 
yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven 
thee upon the palms of my hands : thy walls are con- 
tinually before me." Think you, my hearers, that 
your God would so speak of the Church, if it were 
true that this Church had no claims upon your recog- 
nition, your love, and your loyalty ? Can you be- 
lieve it, that you may safely ignore these claims ? 
Then God, your Heavenly Father, is dandling in His 
arms a beautiful, it may be, but a useless idol. He is 
self-deluded ; pouring out His affection upon some- 
thing which, you might inform Him, the world can 
get on very well without. Take one other Scripture 
testimony on this same point. " Husbands love your 
wives, even as Christ also loved the Church and gave 
Himself for it." Gave Himself for it. For what ? 
For something which deserves nothing of you or me ? 

And still I must add one other declaration of Scrip- 
ture in this connection. " And hath put all things 
under His feet, and gave Him to be Head over all 
things to the Church, which is his body, the fulness 
of Him that filleth all in all." Is it, then, that the 
Lord Jesus is vested with the supreme dominion of 
this world, that He may preside over the destinies of 
an institution which claims nothing of us, either in 
the way of love, or allegiance, or service ? Has 
He been raised to the throne of this world for such 
a purpose as this ? But I add no more. The argu- 



1 36 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

ment is complete enough here. The Church is so 
presented in Scripture, as to give her a solemn claim 
upon the attention of every man who hopes for salva- 
tion through the work and name of the Lord Jesus. 

The second claim of the Church upon the attention 
and allegiance of all who are disposed to live a Christian 
life is founded in the relation of Christ to the Church. 
It is quite certain that there is much in the'Church, in 
the shape of both form and doctrine, for which no war- 
rant can be found in the words of the Saviour. Church 
vestments, and church ceremonies, and the minute 
ramifications of church creeds, all come under this head. 
The art of ecclesiastical dressmaking was one quite 
unknown in the Saviour's day, and there is no hint to 
be found in His teaching as to its probable discovery. 
The theological art of making long creeds, although 
existing in His time among the Pharisees, was not by 
Him dealt with in any such way as to commend it to 
His followers. On the contrary, He tore in pieces 
the minute and elaborate glosses of the Pharisees, and 
left His disciples with the Word of God only in their 
hands. 

It is certainly true, my hearers, that a vast deal of 
what now goes to make up the Church is of modern 
growth and quite foreign to the essence of this body. 
As upon an old vessel, so upon the Church in her 
navigation of the sea of Time, many barnacles have 
fastened, and these, so far from being a necessary 
part of the Church, do but oppose her power and im- 
pede her progress. Luther found so many and so 
foul excrescences, that he concluded to devote his life 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 1 37 

to no other end than the removal of a few of them. 
And this, in great part, has made up the work of every 
reformer since his day. And if he can but dislodge a 
single one of these unnatural impedimenta, a modern 
bishop will not have moved his hand in vain. 

But I am not here to speak to you of the claims of 
High Church or Low Church, of the Methodist, or 
Episcopal, or Presbyterian, or any other denomination 
or species of Churchism. The Bible knows of no 
such varied nomenclature. I am here only to speak 
of the claims of that Church which Christ has pur- 
chased with His blood. And I say, the Church in 
this sense was Christ's idea. He called His followers 
out from among men into a special relationship to 
Himself and to each other. His voice was, " One is 
your Master, even Christ, and all ye are brethren. " 
And by these words He constituted a Church. This 
declaration from His mouth was the enunciation of 
its organic law. And this special order, or class, or 
brotherhood, which He so organized in the world, He 
arranged to perpetuate. He provided that for ever 
men should publicly confess His name, acknowledge 
Him as Master and His word as law. He also de- 
vised and inaugurated two rites, which, for all time, 
should separate His people from the world, and bind 
them together in a compact and visible body. 

The Church then, in this wide sense, is Christ's plan. 
He announced its fundamental law and central rites ; 
and then, through His own inspired Apostles, perfected 
its organization, and set it in motion. And this, in 
brief, is the foundation of the Church's claim upon all 



138 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

those who acknowledge the mission of Christ, and 
who hope for good and blessing through Him. The 
Church is Chrises own arrangement, and to reject 
the Church is to reject Christ Himself ; and to re- 
ject Christ is to rely upon a plan of self-salvation : 
for surely no man has any right to expect that Christ 
will save him upon any other conditions, or in any 
other way, than these announced by the Saviour 
Himself. 

I mention a third claim which the Church has upon 
your allegiance. It is this : The Apostles, under the 
immediate direction of Christ, and in possession of 
the Spirit which He bestowed upon them, at once set 
up the Church, at once began to use it as the school, 
the home, the sanctuary of the disciples whom they 
called. 

That little band in the upper room at Jerusalem, 
gathered together in the name of Christ, and waiting 
for the Spirit, was the Christian Church in her per- 
fected and distinct capacity. And no sooner did 
others, through their words, believe on Christ, than 
they were formally added to this organization. " And 
the Lord added unto the Church daily such as should 
be saved," is the record of the first triumphs of the 
Gospel. And when Peter, in obedience to a special 
summons, went to preach the Gospel to Cornelius, 
did he regard his work as done when the Roman 
officer gave in his adhesion to the Christian system ? 
By no means. He went beyond this, and baptized 
the centurion. The believer in Jesus, he counted a 
member of the Church. So, when Paul kneeled to 
Jesus, he was also baptized. 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. I 39 

And so throughout all that early period of the 
Church's history. Apostles made use of the Church 
which Christ had founded. And shall any one in 
view of this fact say, " I will be a Christian outside 
of the Church ? I tell you, the Apostles who had 
been baptized by the Spirit from Heaven knew of no 
such thing as a Christian willingly outside the Church 
of Christ. And to-day, and for evermore, where the 
same Saviour is preached, and the same Spirit calls, 
there is no such thing. 

But I present the claims of the Church in another 
light still. There is nothing so distinctly characteristic 
of the Christian* life as the spirit of obedience. This 
is the very essence of Christian character. It is bet- 
ter than any form of sacrifice. It is more precious 
than any species of will-worship. 

" What wilt thou have me to do ? " is the voice which 
comes out of the very essence of every Christian life. 
" My Lord and my God," is the confession which the 
accepted Saviour lifts up out of every new-born 
heart. No matter what we say, no matter what we 
think we have felt, unless we are willing to obey 
Christ we have no evidence that we are Christians. 
" If ye love me, keep my commandments." " Obe- 
dience is better than sacrifice." And here is the 
duty of Church membership, about which the Bible 
speaks most plainly. Unless you are willing here to 
go forward, to obey the words of Jesus, no matter 
what else you are willing to do, you cannot be His 
disciple. It is enough that He has spoken. If we can- 
not trust His mission in this matter, and bow to His 



I40 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

authority, it is a poor kind of faith that we have in 
the Saviour. It is as though you should say unto 
Him, " I believe in you, but you have made a great 
mistake in this one matter. I will follow you, but 
there is one of your requirements to which I cannot 
yield. You are my Saviour ; but I must be allowed 
to have my own way in this matter of the Church." 

But there is one other view which I desire you to 
take of this matter. Christ gains men through men. 
This is in its widest sense the ordinance of preaching. 
It is man saying unto his fellow-man, " Come, come 
to Jesus." And the widest possible, the most con- 
tinuous, and the most forcible kind of preaching, is 
preaching by example. It is when Christ is held up 
in the human life that He is seen and admired and 
believed in. But how can we thus testify for Christ, 
how can we thus preach Him to the world, if we re- 
fuse to place ourselves in a Christian attitude before 
the eyes of the world ? 

Take this case to exemplify. Many of you have 
thus far refused to confess the name of Jesus. You 
are known as not being members of His Church. In 
which direction now, honestly, do you believe your 
influence tends ? To draw your fellow-men, your 
friends, your neighbors unto Christ ? or to keep 
them away from the Saviour ? Ask your neighbor, 
ask your friend, ask your child, who is looking unto 
you, and following in your steps. Ask them this 
question: Has my example emphasized to you the 
importance of the Christian life ? Has it been an 
argument to lead you to the Saviour ? Ask the ques- 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. I4I 

tion, and see what answer you will get. But I can 
tell you even now. You will get this reply : " Your 
example has reassured me in my neglect of religion. 
I think if you had confessed Christ it would have re- 
quired a much greater struggle on my part to put off 
the great matter." 

Yes, my hearers, just so long as you remain in 
your present attitude, just so long are you incapable 
of acquitting yourselves of the most solemn obliga- 
tion that rests upon human life, — the obligation of 
leading those around you unto Christ. Just so long 
as you remain in your present attitude, just so long 
are you a stumbling-block in the path of others, a 
hinderance to the success of the Gospel, and your life 
a perpetual despoiling of the Saviour, — robbing Him 
of the travail of His soul. This is a serious matter 
and a solemn charge to bring against you, I know. 
But I remember well how the example of just such as 
you weighed me down and kept me back from the 
Saviour many a year. And I cannot, in the name of 
my own experience, and in the name of the endan- 
gered souls around you to-day, give too vehement 
expression to the fact of your most solemn crimi- 
nality. I recall also the words of Scripture which are 
my justification and your condemnation. " Ye en- 
tered not in yourselves, and them that were entering 
in ye hindered." 

And so, without dwelling upon the necessity of the 
Church to your own personal safety, the matter of 
Church membership stands before you. The Scrip- 
tures could not give stronger or more solemn affir- 



142 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

mation of the necessity and importance of the Church. 
This Church has been provided by Christ Himself, 
is an institution of His own most perfect wisdom and 
measureless love. It has also been under His own 
immediate direction, and through all time, as the 
school, the home, the sanctuary of His followers. 
Duty to it, membership in it, rest upon no other 
authority than that of His own plain and unmistaka- 
ble words ; while at the same time, it furnishes the 
best possible, the only sure, condition for the safe and 
salutary exercise of personal influence. Such is the 
solemn array of her claims with which the Church of 
Christ meets you to-day. Such are the arguments 
with which she calls you unto the solemn and irrev- 
ocable confession of the Saviour. 

I advert now, and but briefly, to the objections with 
which, as with so many arguments, it is common to 
meet and to postpone, if not to reject, these claims of 
the Church. 

The first is this : There are in the Church many 
who give no evidence of Christian character, and who 
are making no progress in the direction of Christ. This 
is trite, sadly and emphatically true. But there are two 
answers ready to meet this objection, either of which 
is quite sufficient to destroy its force. In the first 
place, Christ never declared that His Church was to 
be a perfect body. By the express prophecy and per- 
mission of His own words, the tares grow with the 
wheat until the day of harvest. To object, then, that 
the Church contains many bad lives within her com- 
munion is only to say that it is just what the Saviour 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 1 43 

declared it would be. And the second and all-suffi- 
cient answer to this objection is, that because another 
makes a mock of duty it is no reason why you should 
altogether neglect it. Sure I am, my hearers, that 
this objection will give you poor comfort in the clay 
when the Saviour will deny, before the Father and 
the holy angels, those who denied Him here. To 
share your doom with all lip-servers and hypocrites 
will not make it any the more tolerable. 

A second objection with which the claims of the 
Church are met is something like this : / can live a 
good life outside the Church. Perhaps you can. And 
if your own goodness is your hope for eternal life, I 
have not another word to say. But if, on the other 
hand, your hope for such eternity is in Christ, then 
the case is all changed. For, to despise the Church 
is to despise the blood with which it was purchased ; 
and surely no one can do this, and, at the same time, 
rest upon Christ for salvation. 

But do you say, / cannot agree with all the doctrines 
of the Church. What doctrines, pray? I know of no 
Church which makes the reception of all the articles 
of its creed a condition of membership. Certainly, 
ours does not. By the highest authority within our 
Church we are expressly forbidden to make any such 
condition. The Presbyterian Church does not ask of 
her members a profession of Calvinism, but a pro- 
fession of Christ. She does not say to the applicant 
for membership, " What is your view of election ? " 
But, "What think ye of Christ?" An Arminian is 
just as free to come within our Church as a Calvinist. 



144 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

We will admit one who believes in immersion just as 
freely as one who believes in sprinkling. In other 
words, the Church does not impose her confession 
of faith upon her private members. If, for special 
reasons, an individual prefers to join our Church, 
although not sympathizing with our theology, we say 
to such an applicant, " Theology does not guard our 
Church-door, but Christ ; and if you receive Him you 
are free to enter." 

A professed trust in Christ for salvation, and a 
promise to live a Christian life, make up the one con- 
dition of Church membership. And what is there 
here which you cannot receive ? Is it the idea of re- 
demption through Christ, future good and blessing 
received only through Him ? Is it the doctrine that 
human life must be governed by the life and the words 
of the Saviour ? Are these the doctrines which you can- 
not receive ? If so, then learn and know that you are 
no rejecter of creeds, but that you are a rejecter of the 
Gospel, and have no right to a place in this or any other 
Christian Church. The Church, from the nature of the 
case, cannot admit infidels, free-thinkers, or humani- 
tarians. Neither can it open its doors to those who 
are false and wicked and corrupt in their lives. As 
the Church of Christ, it is for Christians, — for those 
who believe in the Saviour and are willing to follow 
Him. Every such one is free to enter. The ques- 
tion of Church membership is not one of doctrine 
at all. 

But yet again, do you say, / have no experience ? If 
by this you mean that you lack some inward impulse 



CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 1 45 

or feeling, or change, and that it is impossible for you 
to enter upon the Christian life, you state what cannot 
be true. For the Word of God distinctly declares, 
"Whosoever will may come." There is not one of 
you who might not this day commence a life of 
obedience to God if you chose to do so. 

But, perhaps you say, / am not fit to be a Church 
member. This objection, first of all, may be fact. 
There are those who are determined to live this pres- 
ent life just as they please, without regard to Christ or 
conscience, and who do not care for what lies beyond. 
Such, of course, are fit only for membership with 
devils. In such communion they are even now. 
Secondly, this objection, " I am not fit," may be a plea 
of simulated humility in order to get rid of duty. The 
man says, " I am not fit," because he is not willing. 
And here the answer to him is, " Thou hast lied, not 
unto men, but unto God." Thirdly, this objection 
may be the expression of a true consciousness of im- 
perfection. And here it is a mistake. Christ came 
not to call the righteous, but sinners. Confession of 
Christ does not proclaim us good ; but its voice is, 
" I am a sinner who needs a Saviour." Those, there- 
fore, who are most conscious of their own weakness 
and shortcomings and sins are most fit to profess the 
name of Him who came to seek and to save the lost. 

But I must stop here with these two remarks : 
First, the amazing character of men's indifference here. 
Christ says, " Behold my Church, for which I gave 
my blood ! " And men heed not the call, pass the 
Church by without notice. How many to whom I 

10 



146 CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 

speak have for years and years, with the utmost uncon- 
cern, ignored all the claims which this blood-bought 
Church has upon them ! And this too while they are 
going straight forward to Him who loved the Church 
and gave Himself for it. Ah ! my hearers, there will 
be a sorry ending some day of all this contemptuous 
unconcern. 

Secondly, these words of invitation. Again the 
Church, through the blood by which she has been 
purchased, speaks unto you, asking for your attention, 
for your allegiance. 

What shall be your answer ? I beseech you let not 
your unwillingness, let not your unconcern, let not 
your unreadiness, let not a sense of shame, let .not a 
feeling of timidity, be, in any of your cases, a hand to 
smite her in the face. For remember, oh ! remember, 
that the Church is blood-bought and blood-sprinkled ; 
and that the hand, which is stretched forth to smite 
her, rudely and impiously stains itself in those crimson 
drops which are the sinner's only hope. 



XL 

THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

"For lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; 
the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the 
singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is 
heard in our land ; the fig-tree putteth forth her 
green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a 
good smell. arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." 
— Song of Solomon ii. u, 12, 13. 

HPHIS is Christ's spring-time call unto His Bride, 
■*■ — the Church. 
No Church, of course, has propounded to herself 
the theory, that all revivals of religion must occur 
during the winter months. From such a naturalistic 
hypothesis, the Christian consciousness of every 
denomination would instantaneously revolt. The 
whole Christian world would join in crying down a 
theory so narrow, so materialistic, and so absurd. 
And yet, although this theory has never been an- 
nounced in so many words, it is to be feared that it is 
to a very deplorable extent influencing the mind, and 
directing the activity, of very many Christian churches. 
But whether distinctly announced or unconsciously 
followed, it is to be reprobated by all who would cul- 
tivate and disseminate an intelligent view of religion 
as a life-governing, life-shaping principle. Nothing 



148 THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

too severe can be said against such a narrow and un- 
considered view of religion as would shut up within 
any one part of the year all its marked and important 
manifestations in the life of Christians, or which 
would fix the birth-time of souls between the au- 
tumnal and the vernal equinox. All this is gross 
and narrrow, and greatly provocative of sneers and 
reviling. 

Religion is a life, and life is continuous and con- 
nected, developing. A man might as well set aside 
three months of the year in which to do his breathing 
for the whole twelve, as a Christian to set aside the 
winter months for Christ's service. Or think of a 
man fixing upon one day of the week in which to do 
all the eating necessary in the seven, and you have a 
fair picture of the Christian or the church which 
attempts to secure sufficient grace in winter to last 
the year round. Christian experience fed in this 
way will prove like the manna when it was kept 
over : it will grow stale, will breed worms and 
stink. 

And to hedge in soul-births between autumn and 
spring is just as unreasonable as would be the shut- 
ting up within the same period all natural births. 
There is no law or principle which calls for the 
uniformity in the one case more than in the other. 
But the law of natural and beautiful increase to the 
Church, as of the individual Christian life, is daily ac- 
cretion. Christ's mystical body — which is the Church 
— grows as did the one which came out of Mary's 
womb, with beautiful evenness and continuity. The 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 1 49 

Omnipotent Spirit which is in the world, and whose 
breath is the life of immortal souls, breathes upon and 
throughout the valley of dry bones, as breathes the 
wind along many of the sea-courses, continually . 

But although all this be true, and although the pro- 
cession of the spiritual forces is altogether above and 
independent of the precession of the equinoxes, still 
is it true, that each succeeding season comes to the 
world with a new and peculiar influence. Spring has 
a different language from winter. She stirs different 
forces within the human frame. She evokes differ- 
ent feelings within the human heart. She hath a 
gladsome voice, and her step is altogether light and 
joyous. And men change under her influence ; then 
they will come to bear the impress of summer's 
hand, and then again grow sad and contemplative 
with autumn. And the Christian lives in this world 
and under these varying influences ; and they, like 
all the multiform forces which he feels, should prove 
religious, — favoring breezes to swell the sails of his 
Christian life ; drawing powers to draw towards hap- 
piness and peace, and purity and God. Hence 
Christ's exhortation to His Church in the text. It is 
redolent with savor of the spring. It hath its em- 
phasis from the beautiful setting of the vernal season. 
" Lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the 
flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing 
of birds is come. The fig-tree putteth forth her green 
figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good 
smell." So, through the midst of this beautiful theory 
of spring's attendants, — through flowers, through 



ISO THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

music, through fragrance, — comes the voice of Christ 
to H*s Church : " Arise, my love, my fair one, and 
come away." 

Let us dwell for a time upon these words this 
morning, constituting, as they do, Christ's spring-time 
call unto His Church, — or Christ's voice unto His 
Church, as it is borne unto her through the voice of 
the spring. First of all, He calls unto her through 
the beauty of the spring-time. His exhortation hath 
for its emphasis, or one of its most beautiful settings, 
the blossoming flowers. Arise, come away, for the 
flowers appear on the earth. 

The earth no doubt was in the great beginning far 
more beautiful than it is now. No scorched and 
barren Sahara then glistened upon its surface. No 
mildew rested upon its fields. No hurricane pros- 
trated its forests. The bolt of lightning did not^ shoot 
its vengeance from the piled-up cloud ; nor the earth- 
quake overthrow and bury the habitations of men. 
Earth wore then no scar, no blemish. Fair through- 
out all her parts, she was the mirror of God's glory ; 
and, looking upon the work of His hands, the Great 
God pronounced it good. 

Since that day a change dark and fearful has come 
over the surface of our globe. Sin has come down 
like night upon it. Sin, with rough and unsparing 
hand, has mutilated it. It has strewed the surface 
with glistening sands. It has filled the atmosphere 
with pestilential vapors. It has made the forests lairs 
for devouring beasts ; and with the storms of heaven's 
fury, and the angrier, fiercer storms of human passion, 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 151 

it has scarred and scarified the whole surface of our 
globe. Yes, sin has entered, and sin has defiled the 
world. But yet, as in the angry face of the sky when 
black clouds march and countermarch across it, and 
when its whole depth is one uneasy, restless, tumbling, 
frowning mass, like a storm-whipped sea, you can 
observe now and then a line of light, a smile of beauty 
gleaming out between beetling cloud-monsters, so in 
the earth, amid all the defilement and ruin of sin, 
there are traces of the original, and prophecies of the 
pledged future, glory of the earth. 

Among these there is none more prominent, none 
fuller of beautiful testimony to what our earth was at 
first, or of sweeter prophecy of what it shall be one 
day again, than the flower. Scattered throughout the 
earth ; blooming now upon mountain top, and now in 
deepest gorge ; now lifting up its tiny form from out 
the crevasses of the ice fields, and now painting itself 
in gorgeous hues beneath a tropical sun ; now bloom- 
ing in lonely desert, where no eye save that of God 
may note its beauty, and now upon the beaten 
thoroughfare lifting up its spiritual face beneath the 
rude gaze of the passers-by ; now, in rich profusion, 
heaped upon the casket of death until its ghastliness 
is well-nigh abolished, and now, in wreaths of orange 
and snow, lending the last charm and grace to ani- 
mated beauty, — the flower, wherever it blooms/ is a 
smile of God lingering upon the earth ; the most deli- 
cate earthly blossoming of that spirit of beauty which 
God has breathed into all the works of His hand. 

And spring is full of flowers. She stretches forth 



152 THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

her wand over the earth, and forthwith they start up 
in innumerable ranks of loveliness. She calls with 
her voice, and they come trooping in beautiful array 
to her side. She cries out that the winter is gone, 
and assured of safety, as an angel ambuscade, they lift 
up their smiling faces over all the earth. She breathes 
with the breath of the south wind over field and 
garden, and at once they rise up from their wintry 
graves, their spirits of life laden with ten thousand 
odors. 

And so God calls unto men through the voice of 
the spring ; for this is the voice of flowers and of 
beauty. Sin is defilement ; sin is deformity. It has 
defaced the earth ; it has defaced the soul of man. In 
its wake are found wreck, ruin, and all unsightliness. 
It hath no beauty that men should desire it. It does 
them harm, and only harm. It strikes a schism 
through their nature. It grinds them down, and 
goads them on to activities unworthy of them. It 
compels them with earth-bent vision to rake up worth- 
less straws, while a crown is hanging over their heads. 
It degrades an immortal being into a life only fit for 
the brutes that perish. It breathes upon, and poisons 
with its breath, the purest affections, the brightest 
hopes, the sweetest joys of the human heart. It fills 
this heart with all manner of evil thoughts, — with 
thefts, adulteries, wrath, strife, hatreds, envyings, mur- 
ders, revellings, and such like, — bearing these from 
hell to do it with. It blotches and scars and dis- 
figures God's own image, until all traces of its orig- 
inal glory are hopelessly blotted out. 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. I 53 

And from all this God would call away, — call away- 
through the voice of the beauty of the spring-time. 
With the beauty which is external He would call unto 
that which belongs to the soul, and which is the beauty 
of holiness. As, then, during the coming days, and amid 
the opening glories of the spring-time, your nature shall 
feel the softening influence, and flow out in warmer 
and swifter currents towards the lovely, the beautiful, 
and the good, know that all this is the voice of your 
Saviour speaking unto you, and saying, " Arise, come 
away." As He scares with the earthquake, and ter- 
rifies with the whirlwind, and appals with the pes- 
tilence, so also in the kindlier and gentler influence of 
the beautiful spring He is present, and present to win 
the human soul unto Himself. Open, then, your eyes 
upon the myriad beauties which the renewing Spirit is 
now calling forth. Open your heart to the gentle and 
purifying influences which, at this season of the year, 
fill the air ; for they will do you good and not evil. 
They will have for you a voice from God speaking of 
the beauty which is unfading. — the beauty of holiness y 
which blossoms perennially in the world above. 

Secondly : The call of the Saviour is through the 
joy of the spring-time. There is joy in the vernal 
season as well as beauty ; and this joy is made the 
organ of the Saviour's call : " The time of the singing 
of birds is come. Arise, my love, and come away." 

Nothing is more characteristic of spring than joy. 
It is the very atmosphere in which it bathes. Joy ! 
Why, it murmurs in every unfettered and sparkling 
brook that runs laughing to the river. It is heard in 



154 THE SPRING-TIME CALL, 

the morning orchestra which arises from every grove 
and forest. It drops in fragrance from every unfold- 
ing flower ; runs in that liquid life which is creeping 
upward along ten thousand wooden arteries to array 
whole forests in their coronal of leaves. The joy of 
spring ! Why, the lambkins feel it as they gambol 
upon the pasture hill-side. Children feel it as they 
swarm upon the pavements and fill the streets with the 
music of their merry voices. And old men feel it too, 
and their limbs grow more supple, and the blood, 
which winters cold had chilled, begins to flow in 
quicker currents through the veins. You cannot walk 
along the city parks on any of these beautiful even- 
ings without feeling that spring means joy. You can 
see it upon faces ; you can hear it in voices. It per- 
meates the atmosphere ; it radiates ; it is distilled. 

In the text this joy is indexed by the singing of the 
birds, — perhaps the clearest and sweetest voice in 
which spring-time expresses her joy. There is no 
use in attempting a description of bird singing, much 
less an eulogium. The voices of these songsters are 
the sweetest that earth knows of. They are tremu- 
lous with a spiritual delight which cannot be inter- 
preted. And when spring comes, when invited by 
the bright face of the returning sun they recommence 
their matin services, they flood the earth with pure 
ecstatic joy, pour out a tide of melody, to enjoy which 
it would seem that the unseen and ministering angels 
must pause in their path of service. Bird voices are 
the only ones which do not grow harsh and inflexible 
through disuse. They seem all the sweeter and fuller 
and richer from their winter's rest. 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 1 55 

And now, my hearers, it is through this universal 
joy that God speaks unto you to-day, calling you unto 
Himself. He speaks unto you as the source and 
giver of this joy. As the sun is the light-fountain, so 
God is the joy-fountain of the universe. It streams 
from Him to the remotest bounds of His realm. It 
flows, as the river of life, from underneath His immu- 
table throne out, out to the most distant circumference. 
As the Creator of all things, He is the Author of all 
the joy which fills the world, and which meets in a 
royal crown upon the head of spring. Birds sing 
because He, the Good One, has created them so full 
of joy that they cannot help but sing. The waters 
laugh in the sunshine, and join in merry music as 
they flow, because He has made the sun so bright and 
water so clear. Children disport themselves in the 
streets, and fill the air with their merry voices, be- 
cause children are fresh from God, — freshly filled 
with joy at an infinite fountain. God is the joy of 
this world. Were He not good, not a song would this 
world ever hear, nor ever see a smile. Were He not 
good the merry songster would cease from his matins, 
and the flocks from their gambols, and children would 
forget to play. 

My hearers, the Good God speaks to you in all and 
through all the joy of the spring-time. All this joy is 
but a new revelation of Himself to our world. It is 
His coming back to us, as comes the sun back to the 
polar winter. Receive, then, the joy of the season. 
Drink deep draughts of it, for it flows from the spring, 
— your Father's love ! But, oh, forget not the Giver 



156 THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

in the gift ! Forget not the joy-fountain, while you 
bathe yourself in the joy-streams ! While gladness 
streams into your heart, let grateful love flow out from 
it and upward. And, oh ! if perchance you are a 
dissonant, jarring being within this world of joy and 
gladness ; if the waves of the spring-time joy, as they 
roll over this world, reach not your dry and thirsty 
and unhappy heart, — still is the voice of the Saviour 
unto you through all this unshared flood, which, 
Tantalus like, you reach after, but may not drink. 
Listen to His words, " Arise, come away." God has 
the joy which you need also, — enough for all your 
cravings, and to fill you too. Pray Him that by His 
renewing Spirit He would create spring-time within 
your soul, and fill you with this joy of His which rolls 
and flows throughout His being and throughout His 
realm. 

Thirdly : the call of the text is unto men through 
the fruitful life of the spring. " The fig-tree putteth 
forth her green figs, and the vines, with the tender 
grape, give a good smell. ,, 

What we have thus far noticed, — the beauty and 
the joy of spring, — these are only the flying banners 
and the music of the reawakened forces of Nature. 
While the flowers are blooming and the birds are 
singing, the juices of a fruitful life are pushing their 
way along the arteries of ten thousand vines ; quick- 
ening and stirring within myriad plants which are to 
bear the bread of life for earth's millions. The spring 
is the period of newly forming, budding, bursting life. 
The winter is that of stationariness. All the forces 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 1 57 

of Nature are then locked up into winter quarters. 
The river and the lake are frozen into a mute stillness. 
The living sap and juices are magazined in roots be- 
neath the ground. The million forms of insect life 
lie torpid in the nooks and crannies. And spring 
comes, as the trumpet note, to all of these myriad 
forms of life. The waters hear it, and begin to flow ; 
the sap and living juices hear it, and begin their march 
upward ; insects, numerous as the blades of grass, 
hear it, and begin to rub the winter nap from their 
eyes. Spring sounds her trumpet, and life — busy, 
moving, growing life — springs into ranks throughout 
the earth. 

The winter has been the night of Nature, and with 
spring comes the morning, in which, as in a gradually 
awakening city, begins the hum of life, swelling louder 
and louder into the full activity of mid-day. Spring is 
life from the dead ; resurrection, reanimation, restora- 
tion. And God speaks through it as such, proclaim- 
ing Himself as the Life-giver y and through it He also 
calls for life within His followers. Some of you, it 
may be, have been hibernating in the Church : you 
have not been dead, but torpid ; hoping little, feeling 
little, doing little. Locked in with the ice of formality, 
bound by the frosts of an empty profession, your 
Christian life has long been in winter-quarters. If 
so, let the voice of the Saviour come to you through 
the voice of the spring, to unloose your death-bands, 
to set free, and then into motion, all the vital forces 
of your moral being. Come away ; leave your winter- 
quarters ; throw off their imprisonment, their con- 



158 THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 

straint, their dull routine. Forth into the field where 
your Saviour calls ; go, to ramble with Him through 
the flowery fields and beside the still waters. Drink 
of the fulness of a spiritual spring-time. Dare to 
hope more, to attempt more, to enjoy more. Let all 
the fulness of your being flow out towards the Saviour, 
who loves you with an everlasting love. 

The spring is the time for fresh feeling, for new re- 
solves, for more buoyant hopes. Let it be so in your 
spiritual life. Pray the Holy Spirit to pour through- 
out your nature His living tide. Up, and into your 
daily life, let it rise, until it shows there in ripe and 
golden fruit. If you can love more, hope more, enjoy 
more, amid the beauty and the joy of spring, why, let 
these forces of your being go out unchecked to the 
Saviour, who waits for your love, in which all your 
hopes may be fulfilled. 

My hearers, each succeeding and beautiful spring- 
time is but an image and a type of that glorious and 
general spring-time which awaits the Church and the 
world in redemption's future. Nothing shall be lost, 
— not a noble thought, not a high resolve, not the 
music of a sweet and pure affection. The prophecy 
of each recurring spring does sing, — 

" That nothing walks with aimless feet ; 
That not one life shall be destroyed, 
Or cast, as rubbish, to the void, 
When God has made the pile complete." 

" What is sown in corruption shall be raised in 
incorruption." 

" What is sown in dishonor shall be raised in 
glory." 



THE SPRING-TIME CALL. 1 59 

"What is sown in weakness shall be raised in 
power." 

" The day cometh when the dead shall hear the 
voice of the Son of God." 

The winter of the grave hath its spring. Over 
every cherished urn which holds the ashes of His de- 
parted followers shall the life-giving Saviour yet bend, 
and speak the loving words of His spring-time call, 
" Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." Then 
immortal beauty, immortal joy, immortal life ! 

May God bring us all unto such a spring-time. 



XII. 

BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

"And she called his name Moses." .— Exodus ii. 10. 

THIRST. Two general remarks. 
■*- The wonderful clearness of Bible portraits. 

Some of the pictures of the men whom the world 
has united in calling masters are well-nigh indistin- 
guishable. They are like an old manuscript which 
you must study out word by word. So you must 
hunt for individual features upon these faded canvas 
pages. The colors of the artist once so glorious are 
now dim, blurred by the hand of the centuries. The 
perspective once so wondrous has flattened out into a 
dead surface. Men may call it one of the old masters. 
And, if by this language they mean that the picture 
was painted long ago, the observation is most sensible 
and just. 

But now turn to the biographical gallery of the 
Bible. Remember that some of the portraits which 
you look upon — as, for instance, that of Abraham, that 
of Moses, that of Job — are fifty centuries old. Yes, 
were painted thousands of years before the oldest of 
the masters saw the light. And yet notwithstanding 
this, their great age, how distinct they are ! Look at 
the features of Abraham for instance. How they 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. l6l 

stand out from the sacred page ! how life-like they 
are ! If we ever meet the old patriarch, do you not 
think that we shall know him from this picture ? So, 
too, of the portrait of the great Elijah. Of him, as he 
is sketched for us, can be said as was said of Moses 
in his old age, " His eye is not dim, nor his natural 
force abated." We can still see him, as with a wither- 
ing curse upon his lips he rushes into the presence of 
the king. We can still hear him as he mocks the 
false prophets in this shrill and bitter irony : " Cry 
aloud, for he is a god ; peradventure he sleepeth, and 
must be awakened. ,, 

Infer from all this, my hearers, the wonderful 
imperishableness of the colors in which these Bible 
portraits were laid. Infer from it also this sublime 
truth, " The grass withereth, and the flower thereof 
falleth away; but the word of the Lord endureth 
for ever." 

A second general remark. The superior dignity 
and glory of the human life. Where now is the city 
Cain builded ? Where is there any record of the 
musical instruments fashioned by the hands of Jubal ? 
or those masterpieces of brass and iron wrought by 
the skill of Tubal-Cain ? What about the civil move- 
ments of that far-off day ? its political revolutions ? 
its astronomical and geographical discoveries ? its 
progress in agriculture, merchandise, navigation ? 
its food, dress, fashions, honors, wealth ? Who 
knows any thing about these ? Who cares any 
thing about them ? They are all, as if they had 
never been. Ah ! my hearers, — all these are but 

ii 



1 62 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

the accidents of human life, its casual garments. 
They drop off; they perish: but the life itself, this 
endures, this is immortal. Noah, Abraham, Moses, 
Elijah, — these names stand for enduring entities. 
Upon another plane of being, clad in other garments, 
living actors in other scenes, they to-day invite our 
attention, and interest our thoughts. 

Learn from this, that it is human life fashioned by 
the Divine Artificer, and in His own image, which is 
the noblest thing altogether in this world. Every 
thing else is only subsidiary ; every thing else has 
its importance from its connection with man, the 
head. 

I turn now to my subject, — the Birth and 
Training of Moses. 

First. The time of the birth. Pharaoh's Joseph 
had gone. His bones only were now in Egypt, — a 
poor part of any man. So had Joseph's Pharaoh 
gone, and the mantle of his name rested upon a suc- 
cessor. From the mighty throne of Egypt this suc- 
cessor had spoken, and this was his command : 
" Every son that is born of the Hebrews ye shall 
cast into the river." And so Moses was doomed 
before he was born. " From his mother's womb to 
the waters of the Nile," ran the decree. And Moses 
did go to the Nile, but in God's way, — not in 
Pharaoh's, — as we shall see. 

Take next under this head, — the goodliness, the 
beauty of the child. " And when she — the mother 
— saw that he was a goodly child." What true 
mother ever saw her child as any thing else ? Those 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 1 63 

little ones that went to the Nile, both before and 
after the birth of Moses, were they not goodly too, — 
beautiful in the eyes of love, — beautiful to those who 
by them had been taught the deepest and purest and 
sweetest experience of human life ? 

An infant child. Is there any thing more beauti- 
ful ? Look at its little hands. Can any sculptor 
match them ? Behold the light of its eyes. Does 
any flower of earth open up with such a glory ? 
Look upon the rose, the lily, the violet, as they first 
open their eyes upon this world. Ah ! there is no 
such light in any of them. 

" Where did you get your eyes so blue ? 
Out of the heavens as I came through. 
Where did you get this pearly ear ? 
God spake, and it came out to hear." 

A man is far gone, — a woman farther, — when the 
child which comes to them — the immortal clasp of 
their two hearts — is not beautiful in their sight. 
Earth has no honor so great as the parentage of an 
immortal ; Heaven no higher dignity. 

But in Moses' case beauty was to reach unto an 
end nobler than itself. It was to fill the mothers 
heart with a subtler strategy, with a bolder daring. 
It was to fascinate the eyes of a princess. It was to 
win its way to Pharaoh's presence. It was to work 
the deliverance of a mighty nation. It was to alter 
the current of the world's history. It was to be one 
of the mighty powers of all time, — this goodliness of 
the child. 

So beauty, when not abused, ever beyond itself 



164 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

reaches unto a noble end. With his own hand the 
Divine Limner paints them, and then cries, " Consider 
the lilies of the field." So He draws His brush 
across the western sky and over the landscape, and 
fascinates the eyes of man. And this beauty of the 
sunset, of the landscape and the flower, fruits in the 
human life. It emphasizes purity, it lifts up towards 
God. Ah, mothers ! be not so anxious to keep your 
child from the looking-glass as to teach her that she 
holds a noble gift from God in that face, in that 
form, of hers. Try not to keep her ignorant of her 
beauty. This is impossible, even if it were desirable, 
and it is not right. Teach her rather to hold her 
beauty as so much power subordinate to the high and 
holy aims of duty. God, who distributes His gifts 
severally as He will, grants to one of His servants 
intellect, to another this goodliness of person. Both 
are talents. Both should be recognized and used as 
such. And for both must an account be rendered. 

Consider next. The exposed and endangered con- 
dition of the babe. For a while the mother hid him ; 
hid him from the eyes of Pharaoh and his minions. 
But the powers that be have many eyes. This is the 
way the thrift which follows fawning often grows. 
Mean, little souls listen at the crack of the door ; 
peep out of the corners into which they have crawled ; 
see what they see, hear what they hear, and then run 
with it to their master. He says, " Faithful slave, 
devoted dog," and they are happy. Where Moses 
was hid we know not. But of this we may rest 
assured, — the mother would have been willing to cut 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 1 65 

open her heart if she could there have hidden her 
goodly child. But underneath a despotic throne so 
full of eyes she could not long conceal her child. 
And so, soon the hour came when it was not longer 
possible for mother-love to triumph in this way. 
" And when she could no longer hide him, she took 
for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime 
and with pitch, and put the child therein, and she laid 
it in the flags by the river's brink." 

Did ever mother launch such a craft before ? Ay, 
often. Every day they do it. Every day, every hour, 
some mother is committing her child to the currents 
of this world, than which the waters of the Nile were 
not more cruel. Think of harlotry, the painted devil. 
Think of intemperance, the destroying fiend. Think 
of dishonor, the consuming fire. Are not these 
worse than all the crocodiles that ever opened jaw in 
river of earth ? And yet must they do it ? Upon 
the angry surface of this world's danger, must mothers 
launch their hopes ; their only consolation being, — 
God is strong, and a Father to defend. 

I can imagine the mother of Moses weaving her 
little ark of bulrushes. Love makes her hands to be 
full of skill as ever shipbuilder's were. Now she 
daubs it with slime, and with pitch within. Now 
she takes the little boy, — her little boy, — and lays 
him (God strengthen the trembling hands) into the 
little craft. And now, one more look, — one more 
kiss, — and still o?ie, one> one more, and the beautiful 
boy is resting among the flags, and the mother is out 
of sight (the sister must watch, she cannot), awaiting 



1 66 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

the result. So mothers now. The ark which they 
make is the covenant with their God ; its lining, the 
world-resisting element of a mother's prayers ; and 
then with eyes that cannot see for tears, and with 
heart-strings breaking, they push forth their little 
craft, — their heart's hope, — their world. And now 
may God defend the boy, for the mother may not, — 
cannot longer. 

We come now to the discovery of the child. 
Egypt's princess, Pharaoh's daughter, comes down to 
the river to bathe, accompanied by her retinue of 
maidens. She catches sight of the strange cradle 
among the flags ; she sends one of her maidens to 
fetch it ; with her own hand she opens it ; she beholds 
the babe ; the child weeps ; the woman's heart within 
the princess is conquered ; the child is saved. 

But I pass to the second part of our subject, — the 
training of Moses. Note the elements of this. 

First. He had his mother. It either was not safe 
for her to do so, or else she could not bear it, to 
remain within sight of that little ark which she had 
launched upon the waters of the Nile. So the mother 
retires. But she posts a sentinel, — her own daughter, 
Moses' sister. " And his sister stood afar off, to wit 
what would be done to him." This watcher beholds 
the princess as she walks down to the river's brink. 
She sees when a maid is despatched for the little ark 
cradle. In a moment she is in the presence of 
Pharaoh's daughter. " This is one of the Hebrews' 
children," says the princess, looking in upon the 
child. "Shall I go and call to thee a nurse of the 






BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 1 67 

Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for 
thee?" speaks the child's sister. "And Pharaoh's 
daughter said to her, Go. And the maid went and 
called the child's mother. And Pharaoh's daughter 
said unto her, Take this child away, and nurse it for 
me, and I will give thee thy wages. And the woman 
[who was the mother] took the child, and nursed it." 

I'll warrant you, my hearers, that here was a nurse 
easy to engage, one who did not stop to higgle over 
the offered wages. And yet she would not wish to 
disclose her secret to the princess ; and so we must 
imagine her, not rushing back in breathless haste to 
receive her child, but, with compressed breath and 
beating heart, endeavoring to assume an ordinary 
gait, yet walking with steps that scarcely touched the 
ground. And when she received her child from 
the princess she would not cry, she would not laugh ; 
the swelling currents of a mother's heart she would 
dam up, even if their fulness was like to suffocation. 

But her charge received, how she would hasten 
from under the sight of strange eyes to be alone with 
her boy ! Picture to yourselves the sight, as with her 
priceless charge she enters her own home, and closes 
the door upon the world. Sure I am, if Pharaoh's 
daughter could have glanced into that home just then, 
she would have thought that she had happened upon 
a most excellent nurse. " Very affectionate, surely," 
she would have said, "and I hope she has judgment." 
Yes, princess ; never fear. Your nurse has excellent 
judgment, too. Her strange love will make her very 
wise. This was the first element of Moses' training. 



1 68 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

He had his mother. A human life, like any other life, 
needs training. And for this work there is no one 
like the mother. Interest makes her wise. Love 
makes her unwearying. 

Did the children of Israel at this time, slaves as 
they were, gather together in the hour of twilight or 
of deeper darkness, to tell over the story of their 
wrongs ? Did they whisper these to each other as 
they met upon the street, or labored together in the 
field ? Were they accustomed to point to that "hated 
throne " ? If so, all this story would filter through a 
mothers heart into the mind of the growing child. 
She would tell it him as he lay upon her lap. She 
would sing it to him as she rocked him to sleep. 
Talk it to him as he played about the house. The 
sympathetic instinct between mother and child would 
be a syphon, through which, with every hour of the 
day would flow the story of Israel's bitter wrong. 

And did the promise of the God of Abraham, of 
Isaac, and Jacob, linger in the darkened minds of 
their enslaved descendants, keeping hope alive there, 
and the expectation of deliverance ? If so, with this 
hope the mother would feed the mind and fill the 
heart of her growing boy. With the word freedom, 
she would daily stir his ambition. The prosperity, 
the joy, the glory reserved for the Hebrews, she 
would paint upon his youthful imagination in colors 
which would never grow dim. 

And more than this. It would seem, from a pas- 
sage of Scripture in the New Testament, that Moses' 
parents had some intimation of the great mission of 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 1 69 

their child. If so, how faithfully, how proudly, how 
lovingly, she would train the boy ! how faithfully 
she would earn the wages paid her by Pharaoh's 
daughter ! u I am training Israel's future de- 
liverer : " this would make her motherhood grand. 
She would rise above the commonplace, and grow 
great in her effort to be worthy of her high respon- 
sibility. The mother of Israel's avenger would nurse 
her child as if she lived in a palace and walked a 
queen. 

The child from the Nile could never have grown to 
the Moses whom we know, had he been taken at once 
to the palace. .He needed to see the throne of Pha- 
raoh from the stand-point of the oppressed. He 
needed identification with the people whom he was 
to deliver. He needed that to which so many of 
this world's heroes owed their greatness, — a mother. 
And this he had. -This was the first element of his 
greatness. 

The second was his home in the palace of Pharaoh. 
"And the child grew, and she brought him unto 
Pharaoh's daughter, and he became her son." The 
mother had had her child long enough ; for he was 
not to be a common Hebrew, not just one more slave 
added to the gangs in the field. He was to break the 
chains of slavery, not to be bound by them. There- 
fore he must be lifted up to the greatness of his work. 

Two most necessary elements of preparation he 
gained by going into the home of the Pharaoh. The 
first was knowledge. Moses, we read, was learned in 
all the wisdom of the Egyptians. And this he got as 



170 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

the adopted son of Pharaoh's daughter. Good im- 
pulses, a noble spirit, is not enough. Knowledge is 
power, and necessary power, save when God works 
by miracles. Therefore Moses was homed in the 
palace. His mother had given him character, in- 
spiration, stirred him with an impulse which he shall 
never forget. Now he goes to receive the knowledge 
which shall make this inspiration, not so much mere 
goodness, but so much power. He goes to study the 
throne which he is yet to shake. Out of Pharaoh's 
armory he will gird himself for the coming contest 
with Pharaoh. 

Then again. His residence at court would serve 
to impress him with the immense power with which 
the Hebrews contended, and the heel of which was upon 
their necks. This his humble mother could scarcely 
give him. She could tell him the story of the black 
and bitter wrong ; but she could hardly give him an 
idea of the mighty enginery which upheld and per- 
petuated this injustice. And yet he must know this, 
or he will not be prepared for his work. So he goes 
into the palace, — goes to stand by the side of that 
mighty wheel of despotism, every turn of which was 
echoed to by the groans of a whole nation. And so 
the palace, feeding Moses with all necessary knowl- 
edge, impressing him, too, with the vastness of Egypt's 
power, and firing his soul with hatred of its cruelty, 
was Moses' second school of preparation. 

The third was the desert. " He that believeth 
shall not make haste." So he that worketh for God 
shall not make haste. But Moses had not learned 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 171 

this ; had not learned how long God can wait, and yet 
be master of the field at last. And so Moses strikes, 
— strikes before the iron is hot, strikes the blow be- 
fore the clock in heaven has struck the hour. One 
day, seeing an Egyptian smiting a Hebrew, he 
raised his hand and struck down the Egyptian, think- 
ing, as the New Testament says, that his brethren 
would understand how God by his hand would 
deliver them. Ah, how much more confidence had 
Moses now, than forty years later in the wilderness ! 
Then, when God would present him with his com- 
mission, he endeavored to beg off, — had a dozen 
excuses for not accepting it. " Who am I, that I 
should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring 
forth the children of Israel out of Egypt ? " " My 
brethren will not believe me." " I am not eloquent, 
O Lord, but am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue. 
Send, I pray thee, by any one else, but do not send 
by me." 

So forty years later, the young man, who was so 
eager to strike his blow for the deliverance of Israel, 
pleads unfitness, incompetence. These forty years 
had taught him something. His first failure had 
taught him something. So had his desert life, in 
which he had been alone with God. Moses at eighty 
years of age, in his own estimation, was not nearly so 
much of a man as at forty. So of all growing men 
always. There are many now in the world, not yet 
out of their teens, who are a deal wiser and mightier, 
and fitter to cope with error and wrong, than they 
will be twenty years hence ; that is, provided they 



172 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

keep on growing these twenty years. For self-suf- 
ficiency, for a man who knows all about it, and is 
ready to do it all at once, take a young man. 

But God has a school ready for such (that is, if 
they are worth the schooling), and one which they 
will not be long in entering. It is the school of mis- 
takes, — of failure ; the school in which many a man 
spells out this lesson, " What a big fool I was !" This 
was the training which God now gives to Moses. 
He allows him, in the impulse of youth, to strike a 
blow, and then gives him forty years in the desert to 
meditate upon its folly. And in these years we may 
well imagine Moses saying to himself, " Knock over 
Pharaoh's throne ; save a nation ; would you ? You 
are a sight better fitted to take care of sheep. ,, 

And so Moses' training was carried on and com- 
pleted. The home gave him inspiration ; the palace 
gave him knowledge ; the desert crowned it all with 
meditation's great lesson, — a proper self -estimate, a 
true humility. And then, when the man is furnished, 
God calls. When the training is complete, the Divine 
commission is issued. 

In conclusion, note some of the great lessons 
which our subject teaches. And first. We learn 
how low, oftentimes, God permits the true cause to 
sink. The world has often seen the last stronghold 
of human rights defended by the might of one soli- 
tary arm. So it was here. Israel's hope, and with it 
the hope of the Church and the world, rested upon 
one single human life, — this life, that of a born slave ; 
this slave life, in its infancy, condemned and actually 



BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 1 73 

given into the arms of Death. Yes, Israel's hope 
floated in the little ark of bulrushes among the flags 
upon the river's brink. And yet Israel's cause was 
safe enough, — safe enough surely. Wasn't the ark 
water-tight ? Wasn't it a thing of destiny ? Didn't 
it hold the promise of a covenant-keeping God ? Why, 
all the waters of the Atlantic could not have sunk 
that little craft. 

My brethren, with faith in God, we need never fear. 
Suppose there is left but one human life for defence. 
God and such a one are always a majority. And 
when such a Hope rocks to and fro upon the bosom 
of the world's mighty waves, it cannot sink ; for it 
carries God with it. 

Second. We learn the measureless importance of 
one single hitman life. God often throws into the 
balance of the moral world a single life, to keep it 
even. Think of this, ye travailing mothers, and bite 
back your pain with something nobler than self-scorn. 
Ay, bite it back with the faith that you may be 
mother of the coming saviour. Think of this, ye 
teachers, and count no life committed to your care 
common or unclean. 

The third lesson is this. The grand work of man- 
building. This is what God, the Great Architect, is 
for ever engaged in. It is that to which some, — yes, 
all of us, are called to do. Time itself, with all its 
centuries, is only one of many hands engaged in this 
sublime work. Every thing else in this world, ali 
sorrow, all joy, all wars, all peace, all slavery, all lib- 
erty, all learning, all art, is only so much scaffolding. 



174 BIRTH AND TRAINING OF MOSES. 

The slavery of the Hebrews ; the cruel despotism of 
Pharaoh ; the mother's love and the mother's fear ; 
the princess, the Nile ; ay, even the bulrushes which 
grew by its brink, — all these were used of God in 
building up His servant, the man Moses. 

Then after a time the scaffolding drops away ; but 
the building still rises. Unseen by us, angel hands 
and God Himself, carry on the work, lift up the ma- 
jestic walls. Now they shine and sparkle in the light 
of perfect being. Now the glory of the Divine Archi- 
tect is thrown back in myriad hues, which blind the 
vision of the imagination. End there is none. Cope- 
stone there is none. Up, up, upward unto God, rises 
the immortal man. His are the glory and power of 
an endless life. 

Finally. We learn how easy it is for God to fashion 
a human life to suit His purpose. " To the Nile with 
it," shouts Pharaoh from his throne. " To the Nile," 
responds the power of Egypt. " Yes," says God, 
" to the Nile ; but from it too ; from it, unto a home, 
unto the palace, unto the headship of a mighty nation, 
unto Sinai, unto Pisgah." In the very palace of the 
Pharaohs, God nurses a life for the overthrow of the 
Pharaohs. 

With such delightful facility does God model and 
mould human life. So perpetually and surely does 
He fulfil the promise, " The seed of the woman shall 
bruise the serpent's head." So, with such grand 
ease, does He rule the world. 



XIII. 

ESAU'S PROFANITY. 



" Lest there be any profane person, as Esau, who for one 

MORSEL OF MEAT SOLD HIS BIRTHRIGHT." — Heb. xii. l6. 



T3R0FANITY is not necessarily swearing. There 
•*- is a profanity which makes no use of words. 

Sidney Smith, I think it is, who speaks of wooden 
oaths ; of those who do their swearing in the form of 
slamming the doors after them or before them ; that 
is, thev whirl the door to with a violence which re- 
lieves the passion of the soul. So this act becomes 
the expression, the safety-valve, the report, of their 
anger. Then there are others whose profanity settles 
in a silent and dark cloud upon their countenance. 
No word is spoken ; but the anger which, in the case 
of another, has its report in a profane word, rises up 
in the face, spreads itself out upon the countenance, 
is still, but very lowering. This is the way in which 
many women swear. They look it instead of speak- 
ing it. A special objection to this species of swearing 
is, that it is apt to last longer than the spoken kind. 
An angry man can throw off his passion in words 
much quicker than a woman can wear hers out. 

Then, again, there is a profanity much more gen- 



176 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

eral than either of the species which I have mentioned. 
It is that of Esau. He used no words of profanity. 
He was in no rage or passion. His action was, and 
his guilt was, that he treated contemptuously that 
which should have been held both important and 
sacred. He despised his birthright. He sold it for a 
morsel of meat, — for a mess of pottage. 

You are familiar, or ought to be, with the history 
of Esau. He was the son of Isaac and Rebecca, the 
grandson of Abraham ; a wild, rough-skinned, hairy 
hunter. While Jacob sat in the house with his 
mother, Esau was abroad in the fields engaged in the 
chase. And if you have ever hunted you know some- 
thing of how tired one can become in this work, which 
we call amusement. And through this comes the 
critical hour in Esau's life. He had been out hunt- 
ing, and he comes home very tired, overspent with 
travelling, faint w T ith hunger. And no sooner does he 
come within the house than the grateful odor of 
Jacob's pottage enters his nostrils. Oh, how delicious 
at such a time is the fragrance of prepared food ! 
What will a boy or a man not give for a meal under 
such circumstances ? 

And so Esau says to Jacob, " Feed me, I pray thee, 
with that same red pottage, for I am faint." As 
though he had said, " Do give me some of your soup, 
for I am almost dead with hunger." And the wily 
Jacob responds, " Sell me this day thy birthright." 
He has his brother at a disadvantage, and he will 
make him suffer. Esau paused a moment, went 
through with what, no doubt, seemed to him a process 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. 1 77 

of reasoning. It was reasoning ; but it was the 
reasoning of an empty stomach, the argument of a 
temporary faintness. And Esau said, " Behold, I am 
at the point to die, and what profit shall this birthright 
do to me ? '' That is, " I might better part with my 
birthright and live, than keep it and die. It is a 
bargain. Give me the pottage." 

But Jacob will make the transaction sure ; and he 
said, " Swear to me this day ; and Esau sware unto 
him." Now all is arranged. The hungry hunter has 
promised his birthright ; he has also sworn to it. And 
now he sits down to his dearly bought meal. " Then 
Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles ; and 
he did eat and drink, and rose up and went his way. 
Thus Esau despised his birthright." And this was 
his profanity. 

It was the contemptuous treatment of that which 
should have been held sacred and invaluable. It was 
the selling of station, honor, influence, power, pre- 
eminence, for a dish of soup and a little bread. It 
was the parting with chieftainship at the bidding of 
an empty stomach. It was the allowing of the animal 
to swallow up the man. It was sinking the interest 
of a great future in the little pressing need of the 
present. It was a despising of his birthright. And 
so, forty centuries after, the Apostle, looking back 
upon the transaction, utters these words of application 
and warning : u Watch carefully, look diligently, lest, 
on a higher level and in more important matters, any 
one of you be guilty of the folly and profanity of Esau, 
who, for one morsel of meat, sold his birthright." 

12 



178 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

As in the case of the words of the Saviour with ref- 
erence to Lot's wife, so here in the admonition of the 
Apostle, the truth which gives pertinence and force 
to the words is the analogy between the physical and 
the moral natures of man, — between the cravings of 
the body and the equally urgent cravings of the human 
heart. This analogy may be brought out in this way. 
Esau was caught in a pinch of bodily hunger, and 
gave a most foolish price for a present meal. So you 
may be caught by the world, and pay a most foolish 
and extravagant price for the gratification of present 
desire. 

I divide the subject into two parts. First : the 
elements of your danger here. Secondly : the thoughts 
or considerations which should save you. 

The first element of danger which I mention is 
present stress, — urgency of present need. Esau was 
very hungry, — hungry as hunters only know how to 
be. He had been after his own and his father's favor- 
ite venison, and deer-hunting is no easy work. It 
calls for long tramps through swamp and underbrush, 
up hills and over streams. It also calls for the most 
alert vigilance. The eyes must be as wide awake as 
the feet, and the ears as diligent as either. And thus 
absorbed, the hunter walks farther than he knows of, 
performs labor greater than he thinks ; and so, when 
the hunt is over, discovers that he is exhausted beyond 
any thing that he had anticipated. And then just so 
soon as exertion ceases, the depletion of the body 
makes itself felt. So soon as the hunter reaches 
his home, the hunger which, in the absorption of the 



ESAU'S PROFANITY, 1 79 

chase, was unnoticed, wakens within him and cries 
mightily its horseleech cry, " Give, give." 

The body, so long on the stretch, so long and so 
vigorously plied with its task, demands immediate 
attention, the immediate restoration of its wasted 
energies. And in this condition it was that Esau 
came into the presence of his brother's pottage, 
plunged into the steaming fragrance of Jacob's broth. 
His danger was his present stress, — his biting hun- 
ger within him. The hold which Jacob had upon him 
was through this raging appetite. 

And so it happens often upon a higher level, and with 
issues infinitely more important. The moral danger 
of men is often from their present stress, — from their 
present and pressing need. The man who has just 
risen from a hearty meal and gone out into the street, 
is under no temptation to steal from the baker's wagon 
which stands by the sidewalk. His physical con- 
dition is such that the shining loaves are no tempta- 
tion to him. There is no leverage of his nature which 
they can work, no hold which they can get upon 
him. But the case is vastly different when the street- 
boy, who slept last night in an ash-barrel, and whose 
lips for twenty-four hours have not tasted food, comes 
along by the bread-cart. Involuntarily his tired feet 
halt. His eyes, how wide they open upon those 
blessed loaves ! His mouth, how it waters ! Now he 
looks to the right and the left ; up the street, down the 
street ; no one in sight, — and his hands spring like a 
steel-trap upon the nearest loaf. Why ? Because he 
is hungry. Because that baker's cart was paradise 



l8o ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

before his greedy eyes, and the loaf which he snatched 
out of it very heaven to his great want. His weak- 
ness, his danger, was his great need. 

So oftentimes do children of a larger growth come 
unto their critical hour. By misfortune, by loss, by 
squandering, or by the increasing power of an evil 
appetite (growing by that it feeds upon), the man's 
desire for money has been made fierce, clamorous, 
raving. And now he is brought into the presence of 
his coveted boon. Money is before him, within his 
reach. It is not his own, but it is within sight. Not 
his own, but it may be had. Oh, how he wants it ! 
And so the man stands in the presence of his temp- 
tation, weak through the power of the craving within 
him. The next step is soon taken. The exposed 
man risks the penalty of the law ; ventures honor, 
character, reputation ; sells all these at the bidding of 
his hungry nature. The figures upon the book are 
tampered with. The funds are abstracted from the 
safe ; the illicit speculation is entered into ; the bribe 
is taken ; the counsel-fee accepted. The hungry 
Esau gets his mess of pottage, despising the birth- 
right of his manhood ; trading, selling that which he 
should hold above all price. 

And there is yet another and more vivid view of the 
working of this same mighty power. Man is born to 
a nobler birthright than honor or reputation even. In 
every sinful human being there vests the possible title 
to a blessed immortality. Heir of God, heir of heaven, 
he is by virtue of his high pre-eminence. By holding 
on to virtue, by denying self in its lower states, by 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. l8l 

conquering temptation, by standing up against present 
desire, it is his high privilege and dignity to rise unto 
glory, honor, and immortality. But the hour of pres- 
ent and pressing indigence bursts upon the man. He 
comes back from his long chase after satisfying good. 
His hunger opens up within him a voracious maw. 
He feels that he must have the desire of his heart, — 
must have it now . And then the world offers it, — 
offers it for a price. " Give me your birthright," she 
says, " swear it me, and you shall have what you 
want. Throw away principle, and wealth is yours. 
Renounce integrity, and here is honor. Sell me con- 
science, and I give you success." 

And the man reasons, Esau like, " Behold, I am at 
the point of death, and of what use is the birthright 
to a dead man ? Heaven is far in the future, — a dim, 
uncertain good. My title to it is not wealth or honor 
or success. Better have what I can get now." And 
then, turning to the world, he says, " It is a bargain. 
Here is conscience, here is principle, here is my hope 
of Heaven, here is my Christ. Let me have your 
pleasure, your wealth, your honor, your prepared 
meal." And the world gives, — fulfils its agreement. 
The man makes money. He goes to the senate. His 
becomes a great name among men. " Then Jacob 
gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles ; and he 
did eat and drink, and rose up and went his way," 
— without his birthright. So the world gives- its 
victim. He eats, he drinks, he rises up and goes his 
way ; goes his way to meditate upon the words, " What 
shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world 
and lose his own soul." 



1 82 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

So human lives despise their birthright. So pro- 
fanely do they deal with their immortal interests. So 
do they, in a moment of present stress, sell their souls. 
Thirty pieces buy their Saviour, because these pieces 
are offered to a hungry soul. 

The second element in the danger here is the almost 
omnipotent power of the present. Esau was very hun- 
gry, — in a condition to place a very high estimate 
upon food of any kind. Still, great as was his tempta- 
tion to pay an extravagant price for food, he would 
not have consummated his folly except that the food 
was already before him, ready for his immediate use. 
If Jacob had said, " Now, my brother, I see you are 
very hungry ; and I'll tell you what Til do. If you 
will give me the birthright, I'll go out and get some 
vegetables and a kid, and seethe some pottage for 
you." I say, if Jacob had so addressed Esau, he never 
would have got the birthright. Esau would not have 
felt his hunger so keenly if the broth had not been 
before him. Besides, he would have reasoned, " If I 
must wait until food is prepared by some one, I'll pre- 
pare it myself and keep my birthright." But the case 
was, that to Esau's pressing need Jacob could bring 
immediate relief, — could offer food already prepared. 
And so he got the birthright ; bought it at a low 
figure, because he was able to pay the price at once. 

And men always sell at a lower price for cash in 
hand ; and this, whether their merchandise is houses, 
or lands, or conscience, or character. Take the hold- 
ers of real estate in our city who wish to sell. They 
have all of them one price for the buyer who pays all 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. 1 83 

cash, and another and higher price for the buyer who 
wishes to pay in the future. This is so because the 
possession of money has value ; because there is 
always more or less uncertainty about promises for 
the future, whether to pay or to do any thing else. 
And I think I can see this same principle reaching 
out from this narrow sphere and ramifying all through 
the conduct of men. A child would, rather have one 
toy to-day than the promise of a dozen to-morrow. 
And men are but older children. 

Look at the man who is wrecking his business, his 
health, and his family with strong drink. He would 
never pay this fearful price for a distant gratification. 
If the rumseller should come to him with a promise 
for next year ; if he should say, " If you will give me 
your money now, if you will throw into my hands 
your health and the happiness of your family, I prom- 
ise you that, ten years from now, you shall have the 
whiskey which you crave." Under these circum- 
stances, do you think the man would buy ? Buy, at 
such a price, a future and distant gratification of his 
appetite ! Why, he would never think of such folly. 
But now how is it ? Why, out of his home, out of the 
presence of his wife and children, he steps into the 
very presence of the accursed fluid. Its fumes rise into 
his nostrils. The appetite is terrible within him ; and, 
what is more, he can have it gratified at once. And 
so he sells, — sells his birthright, his manhood, his 
family, his soul for liquor now, — for his mess of pot- 
tage down. 

So it is, all through the region of sin and soul- 



1 84 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

destroying vice. The men who are living in the 
enjoyment of dishonest wealth to-day — of wealth for 
which they have given their honor, their peace, and 
their souls — would not have paid this fearful price 
for riches which should come in a distant day. The 
uncertainty of the future, the dimness of the distant 
prize, their own valuation of moral character, would 
have prevented the foolish and profane transaction. 
They would have said, " If I must wait so long for my 
reward, I will pay no such price. I will not venture 
honor and character ; I will not sell my Saviour and 
my soul for something which I cannot have for years." 
But when thq money is just before the eyes ; when, 
by a single turn of the hand, it can be put in the 
pocket, — then the case is very different. The glitter 
of the present gold blinds the eye, confuses the reason, 
weakens the will, debauches the soul ; and the man 
says, " Let me have it : I am willing to pay the price." 

And I think there are, sitting in the high places of 
our nation, those who would not have paid the price 
which they have given for the privilege of their seats 
twenty years to come. Ah, no ! They would have 
thought more seriously upon the transaction if this 
condition had come in. Those twenty years would 
have each been a hand to brush away sophistry from 
the eyes, to brace the will, to guard the conscience. 
Those twenty years would have been twenty reasons 
against the profane selling of their manhood's birth- 
right. 

So it is with all sin. It overcomes through the hope, 
the assurance, of immediate gratification. Heaven is 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. 185 

in the future ; so is death ; so is judgment ; and so is 
God. These all at uncertain distances, while right 
before them, ready to their hand, is the price of 
iniquity, — the wages of sin. Put off these far as 
is Heaven ; let the day of the realization of what a 
man hopes for, and expects to get, through sin, — let 
this day be as distant as is the realization upon virtue 
and piety, — and there is no man but who would look 
to the latter, and choose it, too. Let houses, lands, 
honor, fame, — in a word, worldly success, — be placed 
side by side with Heaven on a distant hill of the future ; 
and let a man know that he cannot have the first any 
sooner than he can have the last : how many, think 
you, are there who would not say, " If I must wait so 
long for either, I'll choose Heaven " ? Oh, it is clear 
as the light ! The profanity of sin is in selling to the 
Devil, at a miserably petty price, because he promises 
to pay at once. 

Under a tired and hungry Esau's nose is stirred a 
mess of seething pottage ; and, intoxicated by its 
fragrance, the victim cries out, " Let me have it ; let 
me have it now!' So men debase their manhood ; so 
they sell their birthright ; so they are wheedled out of 
their title to Heaven ; so they barter away their im- 
mortal souls. They sell so cheap because they sell 
for cash. 

I turn now to the second point of the subject we 
are considering, — to give you some thoughts zvJiich 
should save a man here. 

I mention first this, — to-day is not all. If Esau 
had so thought, so reasoned, neither Jacob nor his 



1 86 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

mother, nor both combined, could have gotten his 
birthright. If he had reflected, saying to himself, 
" I am tired and hungry now, very hungry : but I 
have long years before me ; and through these years 
leads my birthright, crowning them all with honor and 
influence and chieftainship, — out of this thought 
would have come this noble response to the base 
proposition. " No : much as I desire your pottage, I 
will not, for an hours gratification, debase and rob 
the promise of a long and glorious future." But this 
Esau did not do. He seems to have forgotten every 
thing save the little hungry present, and into this he 
threw all noble ambition, every high hope. 

To-day is not all, my hearers. If the man who, in 
the midst of his ill-gotten wealth, is now lying upon 
the bed of death, had thought of this bed in the far- 
off day of his temptation, the thought would have 
saved him. Out of it would have been born such 
wisdom as this : " The opportunity is most tempting. 
But I see a long future reaching out beyond it, and I 
cannot afford to blacken all this." 

Ah ! my hearers, there are many in the world to- 
day, who made their beds as they did, because they 
did not know how long, did not consider how long, 
they must lie upon them. They planted the thorn in 
their pillow, forgetting that the work of their hands 
was to last, not for a single night, but for all earth's 
dark and weary nights, and for the darker and morn- 
ingless night of eternity. With their own hands they 
kindled the fire within their breast, because they did 
not remember that the flame they lighted is the one 
which shall never be quenched. 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. 1 87 

Hence comes the great emphasis which God in the 
Bible lays upon faith, — upon the great future, — 
upon the things which are unseen, but which are 
eternal. The Great Father would have His children 
forecast the years ; to act as immortal beings ; to live 
not only for time, but for eternity. And so I turn 
unto you to-night, and say, " To-day — the present 
— is not all." 

I can conceive of you giving way to temptation, 
wrapping yourself up in a life of disobedience and sense ; 
and all seeming well enough to you now. Esau was, 
no doubt, quite happy during his meal of bread and 
pottage. But what about the future ? How shall it 
be with you when, like him, you must rise up from 
your momentary gratification, and go your way, — the 
way of all the earth, — the way that leads out into 
the eternities ? Say that money, say that pleasure, 
say that honor, say that self, in any one of its lower 
forms, is the meal at which you are sitting. Well, it 
is pleasant, but it will soon be over, and then what ? 
What ? Disinheritance, pennilessness, soul hunger ; 
and these all remediless for evermore. So are you 
willing life's short day shall end ? 

Oh my hearers ! receive, take into your hearts this 
preservative thought, — to-day is not all. There is a 
future coming, — a future with its days and its years 
and its ages. A future with its glory, honor, and im- 
mortality. A future with its endless Heaven, and its 
Blessed and Blessing Father God. Mortgage not 
this future. Sell it not for a temporary gratification. 
Use not its blessed possibility to relieve a temporary 



1 88 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

need. Throw it not into the mouth of a single hungry 
hour. Be not like Esau, who for one morsel of meat 
impoverished all his coming years, — sold his birth- 
right. 

A second preservative thought is this, — there are 
things more important than the gratification of present 
deswe. Esau felt very hungry, and in very childish- 
ness he cried out, " I must have something to eat, no 
matter what it costs. I must have this pottage or I 
will die." Well, suppose this had been true ; he had 
better have died than played the fool ; better have 
died than live to disgrace his name, and debase his 
memory. Life purchased at such a price is not worth 
the having. So I preach unto you. There are things 
of more importance than bread for your hungry hour. 
There are duties to yourself, to the future, to your 
God, which rise immensely above any temporary grati- 
fication. It is better for you to wear sackcloth over a 
heart of peace and purity, than fine linen and purple 
over one of vileness and remorse. It is more impor- 
tant to you to be pure than to have pleasure, to be 
good than to have success. 

Do you say, " See, how the wicked prosper " ? What 
of it ? Principle is better than prosperity. Some 
sacrifices you cannot afford to make for any results. 
There are things which you ought not to sell at any 
price. They are these, — usefulness in the world, 
peace of conscience, purity of heart, the favor of 
God ; a good life, which shall not blanch or quiver in 
a single nerve, when Death shall lay his hand upon it. 
And is there e'en now any hand stirring its mess of 



ESAU'S PROFANITY. 1 89 

pottage before your face, under your nostrils ; offering 
the meal of an earthly success, as an equivalent for 
your birthright in the kingdom of God. Believe me, 
this is a vile and treacherous hand, reached up from 
the blackness of darkness ; and, if you eat, you eat 
as a fool. Better go hungry all your days. Better 
let the world do its worst, ay, better let it starve you, 
than that you should eat at its hands the price of 
your own soul. 

A third preservative thought is this, — the sale of 
the birthright is irrevocable. It had been a small 
matter for Esau to have said, " Yes, you may have my 
birthright," if on the morrow he could have gotten 
or bought it back. Then it would have been pot- 
tage to-day and birthright to-morrow, and this would 
have been very well. But listen to Esau's after his- 
tory, as it is given by the Apostle : " For ye know 
how that afterward, when he would have inherited 
the blessing, he was rejected ; for he found no place 
of repentance, though he sought it carefully with 
tears." The day came, when he who had sold his 
birthright for a morsel of meat would fain have had 
it back again. Though he had parted with the birth- 
right, he was not willing to give up the blessing. But 
these two go together always. 

And the world is full of those who mourn, as Esau 
mourned, for the blessing which went in the day that 
they sold the birthright. There are thousands of the 
world's successful ones longing for peace and for 
happiness, who would give all they have in the world 
for the approval of conscience and the blessing of 



I90 ESAU'S PROFANITY. 

God. But it is too late. These things which they 
desire are the fruits of character ; and, having bar- 
tered this, these sorrowful ones cannot have its fruits. 
Neither can tears buy these fruits. No one ever has 
sold, no one ever can sell, duty for a price, and keep 
happiness. 

Beware, then, how you part with the former for any 
mess of pottage which this world can offer ; for such 
bartering is irrevocable. And even God Almighty, 
the Infinite Father, is withheld, as Isaac was, from 
laying hands of blessing upon the one who has been 
guilty of such profane and infamous traffic. 



XIV. 

THE GREAT CONDITION. 

"TO HIM THAT OVERCOMETH WILL I GIVE TO EAT OF THE TREE 
OF LIFE, WHICH IS IN THE MIDST OF THE PARADISE OF GOD." — 

Rev. ii. 7. 

^^HE first truth implied in the words of the text is 
-*- this, — that success in this world is not a matter 
of course. That life in this world is surrounded by 
dangers, beset by enemies, liable to failure, to loss, to 
ruin. 

This truth has its illustration in all spheres of life ; 
even down to the lowest. The inhabitants of a drop 
of water, the little creatures which float in the sun- 
beam, these contend among themselves for the prize. 
Some of them overcome : some are overcome. The 
conflict of the ages is miniatured in the life of the 
ephemera. These have their period of conflict, where 
victory hangs in the balance. The few hours of their 
existence are full of little dangers, little enemies, pos- 
sible ills ; and so with these the battle of life goes on. 
Now come up a little higher, and into a clearer 
region. Every species of vegetable life is shut off 
from its highest and fullest end by the line of the 
enemy. Every grain of wheat is menaced ; so is every 
stalk of corn, every springing grass-blade, every 



192 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

flowering shrub, and every fruiting tree. And not 
otherwise is it in the animal kingdom, — in the region 
of organized physical life. Enemies of this life swarm 
in the recesses of the great deep ; opposing, assault- 
ing, overcoming myriads of creatures, before their 
life's prophecy is fulfilled, — before their life's end is 
reached. And, in the depths of the forest, march and 
countermarch the foes of life development, of life con- 
quest. Of birds and beasts only a few reach the end. 
The rest perish by the way; are beaten back; are 
swallowed down ; are overcome. 

Think, too, of the numberless germs of human life 
which perish : many, before they see the light, mur- 
dered by the reproductive power, — by the parental 
hand. Then the countless diseases of human flesh 
and earth's casualties gather to meet the remainder 
upon the very threshold of the world ; contesting with 
them every step of progress, every foothold of power, 
every breath of life. And of these little ones thus op- 
posed, thus assaulted, how many succumb ! how many 
are overcome ! How full is our earth's crust with the 
dust of infant forms ! And even if they continue, 
why continuance is often not health, not strength, not 
beauty, not the victory of physical life. Look into 
your almshouses and hospitals and asylums ; full, all 
of them, of mutilation and decay ; full, all of them, of 
battered and wasted wrecks ; full, all of them, of slow 
death. And then the streets. Are they not filled 
with men and women who carry pain as a daily 
burden ? How small is the minority who are strong 
for work, elastic to endure ; perfect physical machines, 



THE GREAT CONDITION. 1 93 

to whom food is sweet, and existence even a very 
joy. 

But I widen the view. Within the body hides 
the true man, who, with the hand of his free choice, 
reaches out for the supreme object of life ; and, by 
the voice of his will, summons all his powers to the 
contest. But is success sure to such a one ? Is it 
always reached ? Life's coveted good, is this always 
won ? Suppose one of you should say to-day, " I'll 
make money ; conscience or not, I'll make money. 
Heaven or not, I'll make money." Suppose that you 
should to-day consecrate your life to this end. Would 
this insure your reaching it ? Why, the world is full 
of men who have failed here. Full of men who have 
murdered their manhood for gain, and then failed of 
the gain. Full of men who have sold their Saviour 
for the thirty pieces of silver, and then been cheated 
out of these. 

I say not that it takes the highest kind of talent to 
make money. It does not. Many very stupid men 
stumble upon it. Many very little men succeed here, 
upon the principle that a penny saved is a penny 
made ; the oyster-shell of their meanness closing down 
upon, and hopelessly shutting in, every wandering 
cent. Some men hold dollars as tight as the shell- 
fish does pearls. Both must be killed before any thing 
can be gotten out of them. But what I wish to say 
here is, that a man must overcome ever in order to 
success. And yet, where there is one who overcomes, 
there are hundreds who are overcome. It is so in 
every sphere of life. All around us, in every direc- 

'3 



194 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

tion, we see men holding up the white flag. They 
have been thrown from the plane where they chose 
to wrestle. Whipped in the battle of life, as they 
chose to fight it. 

But now come up higher. Introduce moral quality, 
and how still farther does this reduce the class who 
have overcome ! Ever in the highest regions the 
classes are smaller. There are more toad-stools than 
Yosemite pines. There are more ants than elephants. 
There are more in the schools who know how to read 
than there are who are able to call the stars by their 
names, or to paint a Madonna. So there are more 
who have made money than there are who have grown 
manhood ; more who have gotten office than there are 
who have gotten character. 

How few of the world's successful ones are at peace ; 
are happy ; are ready for death ; are prepared for the 
immortal life ! With all their success, they have not 
overcome in the true and high sense of this word. 
Physical passions dominate over them ; anxiety frets, 
impurity gangrenes, dishonesty debases, death terrifies, 
and God is no comfort. They have not overcome, if 
man is immortal. They have not overcome, if this life 
means probation. Overcome they are, if there is a 
heaven and a God above it. 

My hearers, there is no truth written more clearly 
upon society's face to-day than its enmity to the high 
and true human life. Men growing more selfish, more 
anxious, more impure, more absorbed in things that 
perish, more as if there were no heaven and no God 
in a near future ; women growing more frivolous, more 



THE GREAT CONDITION. 1 95 

vain, more useless. Humanity's children, made in 
God's image, possible heirs of eternal life, narrowing, 
darkening, poisoning their life, growing away from 
simplicity and purity and benevolence. This is a sight 
which is ever before our eyes ; and it means this : 
that the word " overcome" still conditions the true 
and the high life. 

A second truth implied in the text is this : the dan- 
ge?' to each human life is special. " To him that over- 
cometh," says the Saviour in the most general terms ; 
that is, overcometh what stands in his way, what 
must be overcome by him. 

And this, I say, is special in the case of every indi- 
vidual. That which is a temptation and a snare to me 
is none to you. The rock upon which you may split 
may be altogether out of your neighbor's path. He 
may not be steering in that direction. As with the 
body, so with the soul. What is poison to one is 
harmless to another. Thus, for instance, one woman 
will be able to endure a great deal of what is called 
" society," even if this in itself is not altogether edify- 
ing. She will move through the fire unharmed, — not 
even the smell of it fastening upon her. Through 
selfishness and frivolity and vanity she will pass, un- 
selfish and serious and humble. Not so with her 
neighbor and friend. Her head will be turned, and 
her whole life poisoned; society treating her just as 
alcohol works upon many another life, — dizzying, be- 
fooling, extinguishing the spiritual. 
. Then again. Some men can be trusted with money. 
It is not a bait for them ; not what they care to sell 



I96 *; THE GREAT CONDITION. 

their souls for. While others never can feel the 
money of others passing through their hands without 
an involuntary itching to close upon it. Then there 
is alcohol ; nausea to many a stomach. No more de- 
sired, no more palatable, than Croton oil. There is no 
possible danger to such from this quarter. Whatever 
they do with it, they will not drown their immortality 
in strong drink. Then right by their side are others 
who, with diseased brain and trembling nerves and 
blood on fire, would jump into Hell itself for a draught 
of the accursed poison. 

Without continuing these illustrations, let me say 
that natural constitution rules here, I do not mean in 
such a sense as to rid any man of responsibility. No 
matter where his blood came from, when at last it 
runs in his own veins a man must feel that it is his 
own. It may carry in it the dregs of another's life. If 
so, its last owner is bound, by the law of his personal 
obligation, to purify it. Demons of hellish desire may 
sail upon it ; but, if so, the free agent must inaugurate 
a war of extermination. Sluggish, it must be quick- 
ened. At a red heat, and raging with suicidal desire, 
it must be kept in check, calmed and cooled by the 
power of a pure life. 

No one denies that many are born into this world 
carrying a fearful burden of disability. In so far as 
they could, their parents fought and lost life's battle 
for them. In so far as they could, I say ; for, in the 
strict sense of the words, to no parent is it given to 
fight and lose the battle of life for his child. What he 
may do is this : make victory easier. What he may 
do is this : make defeat awfully easy. 



THE GREAT CONDITION. 1 97 

What is denied here is, that a man is not respon- 
sible for his inherited tendencies, for his congenital 
propensities. A man's body, wherever it came from, 
is at last his own, and he is responsible for it. " My 
father was a drunkard before me, and I must be one.'' 
This is fatality, contradicted by our sense of free- 
dom. It is materialism, contradicted by our own 
knowledge of ourselves, as more than mere matter. 
It is reasoning which no man's conscience accepts, 
and with which no man can go to the bar of God. 

So with a man's mind. It is his own at last. 
Wherever it came from, it is his own. His own to 
correct, to guide, to inform. And if a man finds him- 
self with a sceptical tendency, it is his duty to over- 
come here, as truly as in the region of physical 
appetite. He must hold his mind upon eternal truth, 
until she shall burn her impress into it. Such is the 
importance of natural constitution here. It makes 
up a man's responsibility. It differentiates his danger. 
It points out that which he must overcome, if ever he 
would attain Life. 

Then again. Providential circumstances rule here. 
Joseph was thrown into Egypt, and into the presence 
of great temptation, by no choice of his own. What 
now ? Is Joseph thus relieved from responsibility ? 
By no means. His providential circumstances govern 
as to the danger which he must overcome. The 
responsibility is still his own. If he does not meet it, 
if he succumb to the menacing evil, he goes down to 
moral death, — a suicide. 

So with us all. Many of the surroundings of your 



I98 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

life, — some of them full of temptation, — are not of 
your own choosing. Your great spiritual danger may 
lie hidden in a circumstance which you had no voice 
in choosing. This may be w r ealth, or it may be pov- 
erty ; high social status, or low ; your familiar asso- 
ciations, or an unavoidable crisis in your business 
affairs. But this does not free you from responsi- 
bility. It only serves to define to you your special 
danger. Your obligation, — an obligation which con- 
ditions your salvation, — is. still found in the word 
" overcome." You must overcome the temptation 
which is brought to bear upon your integrity, or you 
fall guiltily, and shall never " eat of the Tree of 
Life." 

Natural constitution, providential circumstances, — 
these only determine what it is specially, that a man 
must overcome ; what it is that stands between him 
and salvation. And through this he must fight his 
way to the Tree of Life. Natural constitution he may 
allow to overcome him. So he may providential cir- 
cumstances. But in either case his own will shall 
assent to evil, and the result shall be — and God will 
so label it for eternity — " self-destruction." 

My hearers, I know not what may be your especial 
soul danger. But this I proclaim : there is no dispen- 
sation in God's universe ; none from the hand of 
fatality ; none from the hand of circumstances ; ay, 
none from the hand of your Maker Himself, which 
can free you from the obligation to overcome. It lies 
not in the power of any agent to alter the condition 
of your salvation. Overcoming here is salvation ; and 



THE GREAT COXDITIOX. 1 99 

God Almighty may not bring salvation to you or to 
me in any other way. 

A third truth implied in the text is this : It is pos- 
sible for a man, f 07' any man, to overcome. Whatever 
the danger, whether it comes from within or from 
without ; however great or perilous it may be, — yet is 
it possible for man successfully to oppose the evil 
which threatens his true and high life. He may pre- 
serve his purity. He may hold fast to his integrity. 
His will may refuse to coalesce with evil. His crown 
is his own, and he may defy any hand of earth or 
hell to rob him of it. 

This truth is the plainest, the most conclusive, that 
the text contains. It rests first of all upon the sincer- 
ity of the Saviour of men. This is most clear from 
His words. " To him that overcometh," says He. 
And, when He so declares, He surely does not mean 
to mock men by grounding their salvation upon an 
impossible condition. So, again He says, " Hold fast 
that which thou hast, that no man take thy crown. " 
Is there then a man to whom these words shall 
come, who may be dis-crowned against his will ? In 
any case, is natural constitution omnipotent ? Are 
circumstances unconquerable ? If so, all that the 
Saviour of men has for such a one is mockery, 
mockery. 

Again : This truth, that a man may overcome, 
rests upon the infinite love of God. It is not possible 
for the human mind to conceive of infinite love allow- 
ing man to be placed in a condition that he may not 
overcome ; may not rise to the highest and noblest 



200 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

possibility of his being. I know there are dark things 
in Providence. But over against all these I place 
this truth, — God, means the Infinite Good One. I 
know there are mysterious words written upon these 
pages. But over against them, wherever found, I 
place these other words also written in this volume, 
" God is love/' These words are not mystery, and 
their brightness swallows up every spot of darkness 
which rests upon the page of Revelation ; clothes 
with the promise of light every dark page of the Book 
of Providence. Infinite Love ! — this means for every 
creature a chance. Infinite Love! — this means for 
every man the noblest possibility. Infinite Love ! 
— this means infinite helpfulness for every human 
need. Infinite Love ! — this means that a man may 
overcome. 

Again : This truth rests upon the great provision of 
salvation which God has made for man. This salva- 
tion, inaugurated by the Great Father's love, chanted 
by angel choirs, perfected by the sacrifice of His only 
Son, and the earth inhabitation of the Spirit, — 
this great salvation surely must reach unto the end of 
making the salvation of every man to whom it comes 
possible. Else surely in the future its glory shall be 
tarnished and spoiled ; tarnished and spoiled by the 
wails and the curses of those who have sunk into a 
hopeless and necessary doom. Can you imagine 
Infinite Love allowing itself to be glorified by 
a select Heaven, and that too, while ever and anon 
there came breaking into its hallelujahs the sharp and 
bitter cry of a soul that would have been saved, but 



THE GREAT CONDITION. 201 

could not ? Is this Heaven ? Is this God ? Is this 
redemption's praise ? Ah ! I think I see Infinite 
Love in such a case descending from the throne, and 
commanding every chorus of praise into silence, while 
it reaches down for the unwilling denizen of darkness, 
for the crushed victim of inexorable fate. 

My hearers, upon these three great truths, — the 
sincerity of the Saviour of men y the infinite love of 
God, and tJie promise of the great salvation, — upon 
these foundation stones of truth I stand, and declare 
unto you that you may overcome ; you may keep 
your crown until it shines in the lustre of a redeemed 
immortality. You may stand up in your integrity, 
until you shall crystallize into an everlasting pillar for 
the temple of your God. From off the surface of this 
earth, strewn with the wrecks of men as it is, you may 
step a victor, with your last words exclaiming, " I 
have overcome the world/' 

I now turn to the inferential and applicatory fulness 
of the text. First of all it holds up religion before us 
in its true greatness and worthiness. 

Consider, here, two lower views of religion, and the 
contrast which they furnish. First : The churchly 
view. This is productive of churchmen; persons 
who know the spiritual calendar, trained in the ser- 
vice as for an exhibition, strong everywhere to blow 
the trumpet of the Church. The full development of 
this view of religion makes the Church every thing, 
and the individual nothing ; transforms religion into a 
round of church duties ; gives salvation to the indi- 
vidual through the mystic power of a holy corporation. 



202 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

Then, secondly, there is on the other extreme the 
experimental view. Here, the experience of a past 
day is carried about as religion ; kept as a passport 
for the gate of Heaven. I point to these views only 
to show how little religion can be made. No wonder 
that it is often left to little men whose great delight 
is a graceful gown, and to soured women who have 
come to believe that they are of the number of the 
elect. 

Now contrast with these the view of religion as 
presented by the text. It calls not unto the Church, 
but through the Church unto character. It bids no 
individual unto the preservation of some past experi- 
ence of his immature life ; but summons him to the 
daily conquest of every form of evil which opposes 
his true and high development. And, my hearers, 
you shall never know the fulness there is in religion 
until you come to take hold upon God, day by day, 
for strength to overcome. You shall never come 
truly to understand the salvation of Christ until, out 
of felt weakness and danger, you shall look unto Him 
for grace to save you from soul-drifting ; from soul- 
degradation and loss ; for grace to enable you to live 
the pure and true life in this world of impurity and 
falsehood. 

Overcome. This is the voice with which Christ 
speaks to men. Overcome. This is the essence of 
religion, in which the human power takes hold of the 
Divine, working onward to the end of a personal re- 
generation. This is the true view of religion ; the 
religion which thoughtful men need, which endan- 



THE GREAT CONDITION, 203 

gered lives need ; which this world, so full of shams, 
needs. With this purpose guiding their being ; with 
this daily use of Christ, — even if they know not how 
to count beads or to bow in the creed, or to tell when 
they were converted, — shall men have the victory 
which overcometh the world, and the report of which, 
borne heavenward, shall open wide the golden gates 
for the reception of the conqueror. 

Again: This subject calls to a careful ordering of 
tJie external circumstances of our lives, so far as these 
are in our power. So far as these are in our power, 
I say. Some men cannot help being rich ; and this, 
although other things being equal, their salvation is 
rendered more difficult thereby. So also, some men 
can hardly help filling high and important office ; and 
this, although public station is a hill swept by tempta- 
tion, which the humble plane of private life knows 
nothing of. But surely, we who desire to overcome 
should study to make our victory as easy and as sure 
as possible. If your fortune depended upon your 
lifting a certain weight, you would not first place 
your feet upon bog or quicksand. 

Yet, in the moral world, how many needlessly ex- 
pose themselves to disadvantage ! They act as though 
they thought they could run the race carrying heavy 
weight ; could fight the battle of life with hands and 
feet tied. Intemperate men look upon the wine when 
it is red. Men, easily tempted to impurity, live in 
scenes which inflame the passions. Men, with whom 
it is a daily struggle to be honest, long for places 
where they shall hold large trusts, and handle much 



204 THE GREAT CONDITION. 

of other people's money. Weak and vain men, whose 
first condition of safety is home life, want to be sent 
to Congress. My hearers, the victory here, the over- 
coming here, will be hard enough for you and for me 
at the best. Let us not then needlessly expose our- 
selves to temptations, needlessly rush into or dwell 
in circumstances which are most unfavorable to puri- 
ty, to truthfulness, and to righteousness. 

Once more. This subject holds up the Church and 
all the means of grace in their true light. They are 
so many helps to man in his great struggle. Let us 
not think of the Church as an end in itself ; as a 
beautiful and dignified institution to which we ought 
to contribute our quota of respectable living. But 
rather let us think of the Church as our servant ; as 
something out of which we can get help. So of the 
prayer hour in the midst of the busy week. So of 
any Christian service, and of every Christian duty. 

My hearers, thus have I brought before you the 
condition of future well-being and happiness, to 
which our Saviour Himself, conformed in His life up- 
on earth, and which He gives out to us. And now, I 
beseech you, give not up the struggle. I know it is 
hard. With passions raging within, the world tempt- 
ing, and Hell breathing upon you, — it is an awful 
struggle. But take courage. God is your friend. 
Heaven bends in sympathy over you. Christ has 
died for your salvation. Oh, take hold of God ! Take 
hold of an Almighty Saviour. Preserve your purity. 
Hold fast to your integrity. Let not man nor devil 
take your crown. Bind it fast to your head, until the 



THE GREAT CONDITION. 205 

day when you may lay it at your Saviour's feet. 
Hear His promise, fc< To him that overcometh will I 
give to eat of the Tree of Life, which is in the midst 
of the Paradise of God." 

Only here is opposition to be encountered. Only 
here, in this world, shall you have trouble in right 
living. A few, short, sharp days of conflict with 
your lower self, and then the end, — then Life, true, 
abounding, Eternal Life. 



XV. 

LIFE WISDOM. 

"SO TEACH US TO NUMBER OUR DAYS THAT WE MAY APPLY OUR 
HEARTS UNTO WISDOM." — Psalms, XC. 12. 

CO teach us. And yet it would seem as though we 
^ needed not to be taught on such a subject. The 
demonstration of human mortality is a hundred gene- 
rations of the dead. It is the ground beneath our 
feet, billowy with graves full of dust which was once 
human forms. It is that long line of well-nigh one 
hundred thousand human lives, which every day 
melts into nothingness before our eyes. It is in every 
tick of the clock which marks the passage of some 
immortal soul. 

It is in our fading vision, in our failing strength, 
in our whitening locks ; in the forming wrinkles upon 
our faces ; in the furrows of care upon our hearts ; in 
the limitation of every earth-born aspiration ; in the 
deduction of every sober thought ; aye, it is every- 
where written out in letters of light before our eyes, 
— the demonstration of the mortality of man. 

" Beneath our feet, and o'er our head, 
Is equal warning given. 
Beneath us lie the countless dead, 
And over us is the Heaven." 



LIFE WISDOM. 207 

Teach us here ! As well tell us that our eyes behold 
the sun in the heavens, as teach us that we are mortal. 
As well teach us that we live, as that we must die. 
Let the teaching be reserved for more mysterious 
truth, for less patent facts. Man will number his 
days without an inspiration from above. Will he ? 
Does he? 

Consider the generations of the past ; how they 
bought and sold, how they married and were given 
in marriage, until death came and took them all away. 
Consider the generations of our own day ; how eagerly 
and out of breath they are chasing the shadows of 
earth ; heeding not those who fall by their very side ; 
closing up the gaps of death without a thought of 
their own mortality. The woman dresses and dines 
and dances ; and so whirls forward a bright and beau- 
tiful thing all forgetful of the end, which is the dark 
and hollow grave. The man busies himself in plead- 
ing causes, writing opinions, building railroads, man- 
aging banks, buying and selling, — a thing of time, a 
thing of sense, all unconscious of his mortality. Act- 
ing, living, planning, purposing, as though there was 
no number to his days. 

But then, what ? Is happiness disallowed ? Is joy 
a sin ? Are the necessary occupations of life to be 
ignored ? Not at all. I only refer to these things to 
show you that the human mind works not naturally 
unto the end of numbering the days. So the first 
condition of right living, the fundamental thought of 
a wise life, is ignored, is undreamed of, by thousands 
and thousands. 



208 LIFE WISDOM. 

See, my hearers, how dependent we are upon 
divine teaching, upon the inspiration which is from 
the Almighty. Left to ourselves, we forget the plain- 
est, the most important fact of our existence. Left 
to ourselves, we rush or drift along without once 
stopping to make that numbering which is the very 
beginning of life-wisdom ; to which it would seem as 
though the instincts of our nature would most surely 
compel. 

But what is the wisdom which comes from the 
numbering of our days ? Rather let me put it in this 
way : What are the varieties of human life which this 
wisdom condemns ? Let it speak out, and this time 
not to approve but to judge and condemn. 

Divine types of human life arise before our eyes. 
Human lives are no more alike than are the trees in 
the forest or the flowers in your garden. 

First, there is the anxious life. A matter of tem- 
perament, you say. Yes, to a certain extent. Blood, 
inherited disposition, may not be overlooked here. 
Cheerfulness, no doubt, is transmitted from father to 
son ; and so is despondency, a propensity to look on 
the dark side of things. Then it is said that this over- 
anxious condition of the mind is a result of impaired 
health. And here also is a truth. It is only a very 
superior person who can rise above and triumph over 
his physical condition ; who can be equable and wise 
and tender, when the body is sick. Dyspepsia con- 
quers any thing less than gigantic will-power. But 
admitting all this, still education, reason, truth, must 
not be left out here. There is such a thing as a man 



LIFE WISDOM. 209 

taking himself in hand for correction. He may call 
reason to his aid. He may smite his propensity with 
the hand of truth. So here, the hand of truth is 
raised for smiting, for condemnation. First, this 
truth, — your own helplessness ; secondly, — God's 
infinite goodness. 

And now comes the wisdom of the text, sharpest, 
strongest of all to rebuke and condemn here. Thus 
it speaks : It will soon be over. The dream will soon 
be past. The battle will soon be fought. Do not 
worry then. The burden so heavy, you shall carry it 
but for a day. The trial so sharp, you shall soon have 
an escape from it. These things will soon have an 
end, and that for ever. Oh, how quiet, how peaceful 
is the region to which human life hasteth ! " There 
the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary 
be at rest. There the prisoners rest together ; they 
hear not the voice of the oppressor. The small and 
the great are there ; and the servant is free from his 
master. ,, 

As the rivers run to the sea, so toward and unto 
this great, deep gulf of mortality runs the noisy, 
fevered life of man. Look into the business world. 
Where are the old familiar faces of the exchange, of 
the bank, of the street ? — faces so full of anxiety ; faces 
so etched and wrinkled. All gone ; all passed to a 
region where money no longer allures or fascinates. 
Look into the political world. What a fever has our 
city been thrown into during the past week! But 
look upon the crowd which hurries along our streets, 
which blocks up the corridors of our hotels, which 

14 



2IO LIFE WISDOM, 

surges up to yonder Capitol. Where are the old 
faces with which Washington used to be so familiar, 
— the old politicians who were wont to fill the public 
eye at such a time ? Gone, gone, like a dream. Old 
men ; they sit in their quiet homes, or in their last 
sleep they rest beneath the sod. 

Oh, ye anxious ones, hear the voice of the text ! 
The cares which vex, the ambitions which absorb, the 
eagerness which excites, the fever which consumes, 
these all are dead men's clothes which you wear ; and 
you too shall soon put them off. Like the shadow up- 
on the side of the mountain ; like the shuttle which 
darts through the loom ; like the handful of mist, which 
for a moment hangs tremulous in the morning sun, 
and then is gone for ever, — such is your life. Oh, let 
the wisdom which comes from the numbering of your 
days rebuke your anxious life, and cool the fever of 
the present hour ! 

A second type of human life, condemned by the 
wisdom which comes from the numbering our days, is 
the selfish life. Selfish life is that which is severed 
from all sympathetic connection with fellows. It 
covers the whole range from mere indifference to 
hate ; from hands which are folded in the presence of 
human want, to hands which are raised to beat down 
the weak and the struggliQg. 

Consider that only for the brief period of this life is 
it given unto any one of us to work our life power into 
the welfare of our fellow-men. Here only can we in- 
vite to the Cross, and to salvation. Here only can 
we say to the brother by our side, Come to Jesus. 



LIFE WISDOM. 211 

Here also, and here alone, can we contribute of our 
efforts and our money to the amelioration of human 
want, to the alleviation of the sufferings of our fel- 
low-men. If we lift up our eyes and look beyond the 
present life, this is the sight which meets our view : 
A glorious Heaven, in which no one needs help of 
another ; where every life is self-sufficient and over- 
flowing. A dismal Hell, in which no one has power 
to help another ; where all is utter weakness, hopeless 
bankruptcy, irreparable loss. 

But here, ah ! this is the golden span of our being, 
by which we are bound as possible saviours to the 
members of our race. Here, we can give of our life 
unto them ; aye, can work this life of ours into their 
history, incorporate to all eternity. Here, we can 
throw a ray of light on the pathway of the wanderer ; 
teach the ignorant ; reclaim the vicious ; lift up im- 
mortal lives from the horrible pit and the miry clay, 
until their feet shall stand upon the solid rock ; aye ! 
fashion with our own hands pillars for the temple of 
our God. 

And the selfish life is the one which ignores this 
golden opportunity ; which folds in ease the hands 
which might help, or, worse still, uses them to beat 
down the weak and the struggling. And all this, 
while the time is passing. All this, while on high the 
days of this glorious power are being numbered. I 
imagine two men standing side by side upon this 
earth to-day. Of these, one is ignorant, the other 
wise ; one is weak, the other strong ; one is poor, the 
other rich. Fountain and receptacle are these two 



212 LIFE WISDOM. 

lives to-day. From the one unto the other sympathy- 
may flow, help may flow, salvation may flow. The 
man may save his brother, for God has so arranged. 
But only for to-day. To-morrow I see these two 
men meet in eternity ; but now upon a level ; now 
independent of each other for weal or for woe eter- 
nally. 

Oh, with what ineffable regret must the selfish life 
look back upon its lost opportunity ! With what un- 
ending sorrow must it look into the faces of those 
whose earthly life it might have helped, but which it 
despised and despoiled ! There I see the murderer 
meet his victim. What a meeting ! There I see Di- 
ves looking far off, until his eyes rest upon Lazarus ; 
and then he remembers the palace and the gate, the 
sumptuous table and the refuse, the rich clothing and 
the rags. Oh, what a reminiscence ! There I see 
the rumseller stand, as the lives of his earthly victims 
come up to meet him. There, too, the miser, — his 
hands now empty, — stands, as his possible benefi- 
ciaries come up one after another. There, too, I see 
the debauchee, as the fallen spirits of those whom 
he here seduced come flying and cursing towards 
him. 

And I see another sight. The teacher stands to 
welcome the ignorant whom she taught, the ragged 
whom she clothed, the weak and endangered around 
whom she placed and locked the strong arms of the 
Great Saviour. And there the philanthropist stands 
to greet those whom he loved, and for whom he lived. 
So, those who live for others' good rest from their 



LIFE WISDOM. 213 

labors. So, their works do follow them. Star after 
star of rejoicing is set in their unfading crowns, until 
these crowns shine with a glory only inferior to that 
upon the head of the Great Saviour. And the possi- 
bility of all this measureless regret, of this unmeasur- 
able joy, is shut up within the span of this life which 
so soon is gone ! Brethren, read the condemnation of 
the text. It rests, and will for ever rest, upon the 
head of the selfish life. 

But again, the condemnation rests upon what is 
known as the worldly life. All our lives are worldly 
in a sense, and to a certain extent. First : We live 
in this world. This is our home. We are this world's 
people. Not out of relation are we to the universe, I 
know. Neither is the individual out of relation to the 
city in which he lives, to the State of which he is a 
citizen. Still he has his home. So we. This planet, 
Earth, is our home. Here we were born ; here we 
live. Our activities, our cares, our business, all these 
are here. The real-estate owner owns here, not in 
Saturn, not in Sirius, not in the Sun. His freehold 
has no hold save in this world. So of all business. 
It is done here. It is a band which binds us to earth. 
It is worldly in its nature. And from this no voice of 
reason or of God calls away. 

A false Church may immure living men and women. 
But so far as she does this, she is guilty of burying 
alive, — a horrible wickedness. The voice of God is, 
" Not slothful in business/' The voice of God is, 
Consecrate all life, — " Whatsoever ye do, do all to 
the glory of God." The hermit, the sloth, the world 



214 LIFE WISDOM. 

despiser, — these all does reason condemn ; and these 
all does God repudiate. 

Thus, are we all bound to this world. Our home is 
here, — here, by the law of gravity, and the will of 
God. The sphere of our activity is here. Railroads 
must be constructed ; cables must be swung under 
the Atlantic ; the eye of the telescope must be 
ground ; houses must be builded ; bread must be 
baked. Here, too, are many of the fountains of 
our joy: mother-love, wife-love, — these springs 
open up in this world ; these odorous flowers bloom 
here. 

But beyond this necessary worldlfness there reaches 
out another as guilty as this one is innocent ; as un- 
wise as this one is wise. Not necessarily is the whole 
of man's being bounded by this world. He is endowed 
with thought which may run, which may fly beyond 
it. He is gifted with imagination which can picture 
the unseen ; with hope which can reach forward and 
rise upward to Heaven, and with faith by which he 
may draw from these far-off sources an inspiration 
for daily life. 

But men make not use of these faculties, — say, 
rather, they first pervert and then destroy them. Are 
these faculties so many avenues out of which and 
along which the individual may run ? Then they are 
blocked up. Now, it is gold ; now, it is ambition ; 
now, it is pleasure, which by the man's own hand is 
rolled into these avenues which lie toward Heaven ; 
into these openings through which light may come. 
The man loves so much the honor which cometh from 



LIFE WISDOM. 215 

man, that he forgets the honor which cometh from 
God. So, the White House sometimes has shut out 
the view of Heaven. Money does the same. Busi- 
ness of all kinds the same. Pleasure, too. So, the 
individual voluntarily walls himself in. 

So, he becomes worldly in the Bible sense of this 
word ; comes into that condition, when by not one of 
his divine faculties does he reach out beyond this 
world. When hope, wing-clipped and sensual, flutters 
up only to earthly goals ; when imagination can only 
picture a finer house, a higher station, a larger estate, 
a wider fame ; and when faith, — why, for her there is 
no use, and she falls down and dies within the soul. 
So, this world conquers. Blotting out duty ; blotting 
out Heaven ; blotting out God. The man acts as if 
this world were all ; as if he had no concern or inter- 
est in a wider realm, in a nobler citizenship. 

Now, my hearers, I fully believe that reason con- 
demns such a life. I know that human experience 
does. But most severelv of all is this life condemned 
by the wisdom which comes from numbering of our 
days. " He heapeth up riches," says the Bible, u and 
knoweth not who shall gather them." How these 
words burn their condemnation into the worldly life ! 
How they wither it ! 

" And who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man 
or a fool ? " asks the voice of inspiration, respecting 
the heir of the rich man. The emphasis, my hearers, 
is on the idea of heirship, on the words " he shall be." 
Yes ; he cometh : the heir, — the heir of riches which 
are now being heaped up by another w T ith such life- 



2l6 LIFE WISDOM. 

absorbing eagerness ; and as he comes he laughs at 
the one who is so laboriously preparing for him. He 
may be a wise man, this coming one, but this matters 
little. He may be a fool, — many heirs are, — but 
this scarcely makes the matter worse. The main fact 
is, that he is another ; and the coming of the other 
speaks of the cessation of the first. 

Such is the condemnation which the numbering of 
our days pours upon all the phases of the mere life of 
sense. It was this wisdom which took to itself a voice 
to speak unto the rich man, who was so anxious to 
know what to do with his fruits and goods ; and this 
is what it said : " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall 
be required of thee ; then whose shall those things be 
which thou hast provided ? " And in these words for 
evermore does this wisdom speak. 

It makes no difference what is the particular bent 
or passion of the worldly life. It may be to make 
money ; it may be to get into places of honor ; it may 
be the acquisition of knowledge. It matters not. 
Only so that the life of man is circumscribed by sense. 
Only so that in its noblest outreachings it is bounded 
by this world. So that the man does not love, or think 
upon, or care for, any thing which he cannot handle, 
or see, or analyze. Just so sure as this is the case, so 
surely does the wisdom prayed for in the text con- 
demn, — condemn in these sharp words, " Thou fool, 
thou hast not numbered thy days." 

But, once more, let me say that the wisdom which 
comes from the numbering of our days condemns the 
irreligious or unchristian life most severely of all. 



LIFE WISDOM. 217 

Into this condemnation it gathers all its force, all its 
severity. What is an irreligious life ? A life which 
is unprepared to die. Doth not the fact that our days 
may end at any time condemn such a life ? Unpre- 
paredness for an event which may be precipitated at any 
moment, — is not this unwisdom ? Is not this folly ? 
What is the irreligious life ? The life whose guilt is 
still resting upon its own head. And yet, within any 
day, it may be summoned into the presence of yonder 
white and holy Throne. Is not this folly ? Is it not 
madness ? What is the irreligious life ? The one 
which dares to ignore the bleeding Saviour on yonder 
Cross. And yet, at any moment, it may be swept for- 
ward into a realm of which the only heaven is this 
same despised Saviours gift. Is not this unwisdom ? 
Is not this folly ? — folly unmatched in the realm of 
rational life ? Is not this madness ? — the wildest 
madness in the universe ? What is the irreligious life ? 
The life whose only portion is here ; which has no 
home or hope beyond this world. And yet, with the 
next tick of the clock, it may be swept forward into the 
eternities, despoiled of its all. 

Oh, what a condition for a rational being to live in, 
to be contented in ! Unprepared to die, unforgiven, 
Christless, with no everlasting home ; and the days 
passing, running, flying ! Oh, brethren ! oh, my hear- 
ers ! pray, pray ! pray the prayer of the text, " Lord, so 
teach us to number our days, that we may apply our 
hearts unto wisdom." 

You see, my hearers, how the matter of personal re- 
ligion is forced upon you to-day. It is pressed upon 



21 8 LIFE WISDOM. 

you by the plainest, broadest, simplest fact of your 
existence, — your mortality. And how shall you 
escape, how shall you justify yourself, if you turn 
away from, if you despise, the wisdom which is within 
your reach ; so surely and easily within your reach ? 
To number your days, — this will frighten you out of 
your irreligious life. This will save you. And tell 
me, if you can, how could God Almighty bring salva- 
tion nearer to you than this ? 

My hearers, the voice of God unto you to-day is sim- 
ply this : that in all your life you shall have reference 
to the great facts and laws which condition your being. 
Prominent among them is the fact and law of your 
mortality. And I am sent of God this morning to 
beseech you that you allow this fact to exercise a con- 
trolling influence over your daily life. And will you 
not heed my message ? Is not the voice of God here, 
the voice of reason as well ? Doth not reason declare, 
doth not instinct teach, that your life here ought to 
be something different from what it might be if it was 
to have no end ? That it ought daily to feel the shap- 
ing, inspiring, modifying influence of the great fact of 
your mortality ? Turn then, I pray you, unto the 
numbering of your days, and unto the life-wisdom 
which comes from this numbering. 

I see the gladiators of old step forth into the arena, 
and, as they do so, they bow before the assembled 
throng, with the words, " Morituri salutamus," — " We, 
who are about to die, salute you." So from this sanct- 
uary do you step forth into the arena of life. And as 
the cares, the pleasures, the ambitions of time look 



LIFE WISDOM. 219 

down upon you, as they beckon to you, be it yours to 
respond to them all, in the words of the old Roman : 
"I, who am about to die, salute you." Thus holding, 
so relating, your life, this world shall have no power 
to corrupt it ; and, at last, death shall have no power 
to terrify its spirit, or to shrink its dimensions. 



XVI. 

THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

"The spirit of Elijah doth rest on Elisha." — 2 Kings, ii. 15. 

* I ^HE succession of Elisha was one marked by the 
-*■ sharpest and boldest contrasts. 

First. In his origin. 

Elijah came from the mountainous country of 
Gilead. He was the wild man of the mountains. 
Elisha was called from the peaceful scenes of 
agricultural life. Elijah found him at the plough, 
and there anointed him. There is a vast differ- 
ence between a mountaineer and a farmer of the 
plains, between the Highlander of Scotland and the 
Lowlander. And all this difference was there be- 
tween Elijah and Elisha. Yet were they both called 
to the same office, one from the mountains, the other 
from the plough ; yet was Elisha the successor of 
Elijah. 

A second point of contrast. The appearance of the 
men. 

This was totally unlike. Elijah wore his hair 
long, so that he was called the hairy man, and this, 
with his sheepskin mantle thrown around him, and 
what we can well believe to have been the singular 
and striking features of his face, gave to him an ap- 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 221 

pearance altogether remarkable and unique. There 
was indeed no one in the kingdom like him. When 
Ahab's minister met him, he said at once, " This is 
Elijah." He knew that no one else could make up 
such a picture. 

But there was no such peculiarity in Elisha's ap- 
pearance. He looked like other men. The boys 
called out after him, " Bald-head, bald-head," because 
he wore not his hair long, like the wild, fierce, de- 
structive Gileadite. Yet was this same ordinary 
looking man the successor of the wild and extraor- 
dinary one. So, centuries later, came One, " eating 
and drinking," looking like, acting like, living like the 
men around Him, albeit He was the successor of the 
prophet who lived in the wilderness, clad in shaggy 
raiment, eating locusts and preaching wrath. Learn, 
then, that succession does not consist in dress ; that 
a great man's successors are those who carry forward 
his* work, not those who ape his appearance. The 
true succession is one of character, and not one of 
clothes. 

A third point of contrast. In their manner of 
life. 

The first that we see of Elijah is, when he darts 
into the presence of Ahab from the wild scenes of 
his native Gilead. And then, like a flash, he is gone 
again. And again we see him living by the brook 
Cherith, away from the homes of men, and fed by 
the ravens. Next we behold him lying under a juni- 
per-tree, out of Israel, out of Judah, away down in 
the desert, scores of miles away from any place which 



222 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

he could call home. Then again we look, and the 
wild strange man, forty days deeper in the desert, is 
lying in a mountain cave. So Elijah lived. He was 
a regular Bedouin, scorning the habitations of men. 

But Elisha lived as any man might live who had 
given up farming for a professional calling. He 
dwelt in towns and cities. He mixed with men. He 
preferred a house to a cave, and a bed to the hard 
cold ground. So the greatest of all the prophets was 
accustomed to enjoy the hospitality of his friends. 
Bethany furnished Him a favorite resort. There, 
with the two sisters and their brother, Jesus often 
stopped, resting from His public labors in the quiet 
of a comfortable home. But His forerunner, in his 
earners hair, in the wilderness preached by day, and 
in the wilderness slept by night. So I have seen it 
on the frontier. The son deserts the rude cabin of 
his father, building for himself a comfortable house. 
So the necessity of the day shapes the lives of men. 
So the times change, and men, who are greater than 
their clothes or their houses, change with them. 

So it should be always in the sphere of religion. 
There are other and better ways of succeeding to our 
Puritan forefathers than by singing Rouse's version, 
adopting the nasal tone, sitting in cold meeting- 
houses, and listening to forty-headed sermons. But 
how slow some good people are to distinguish be- 
tween religion and its accidental dress ! They render 
themselves, and, what is much worse, all around them 
uncomfortable, by fighting for the continuance of 
sameness in the outward and unessential ; forgetting 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 223 

that the world moves, forgetting also that God is 
quite willing to clothe the soul in new garments, to 
put the spirit of an Elijah into the body of an Elisha. 
And, my hearers, if God is willing so to do, if He is 
willing to dispense with the long hair and sheepskin 
mantle and Arab life of His Elijah, if He says, 
" These are not my prophet, only his accidental 
dress ; " why should not we be willing to say the 
same ? 

One other contrast, I name, between the two 
prophets. A contrast growing out of the particular 
form of their work for God. Elijah's was destruction ; 
Elisha's was construction. The first act of Elijah 
was to smite the land with a terrible curse. The first 
act of Elisha was to bless Jericho with the gift of 
good water. So throughout their lives, — one pulled 
down, the other built up. And yet, both were doing 
the same great work. God called both, and with 
equal fidelity they discharged their duty, — fulfilled 
their mission. 

My hearers, let us stop here to note and learn the 
great lessons taught by the contrasts which I have 
mentioned. The first is this : the little stress which 
tlie Divine Array er and Architect places upon external 
same7iess. We discover this divine indifference far 
below the human level, and in the lowest spheres of 
life. The two blades of grass which grow at your 
feet are not exactly alike. They have their generic 
likeness, but they also have their points of difference. 
So with the roses. Each has its own style, its own 
peculiar blush. So with the noble pines which stand 



224 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

high up upon nature's battlements waving their 
majestic plumes. Each one of them stands up an 
individual giant, itself in girth, itself in height, itself 
in beauty. 

And where in nature to-day, will you find two 
waterfalls the exact duplicate of each other ? Min- 
nehaha, and Genesee, and Niagara, are one to-day in 
their mighty music ; but their music is harmony, not 
unison. So with the music of the spheres. There 
is not a planet which the eye of the astronomer does 
not recognize at once. He looks up and says, "There 
is Mars with his fiery glow. And there is Venus 
with her pure silver light. And yonder, that is 
Saturn with his girdle of moons." So everywhere 
throughout nature, the same soul looks out upon us 
with different eyes, speaks to us in a different tone, 
tells upon us with a peculiar power. " There is one 
glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and 
another glory of the stars." Type, all this, of the 
Divine intention and method in the sphere of rational 
life. " There are diversities of gifts, but the same 
Spirit." 

Men come forth from the Divine Hand, as unique, as 
peculiar, as are the roses or the planets. Each has his 
own beauty ; each has his own orbit ; each bears the 
stamp of the day in which he lives. Take an old Ro- 
man coin, and compare it with one which comes forth 
cleanly cut from our own mint. What a difference 
between them ! Yet both are precious metal, both 
are coin. So is it with the man whom God forms and 
equips for His work. He lays stress only upon the 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION, 22$ 

soul, only upon the spirit of a man. When He needs 
a man to thunder, to tear down, He says, " Let him 
be Elijah; let him be John Baptist; let him be 
Luther the monk.'' And then, right by the very 
side of these, He raises up His Elisha, His Melanc- 
thon, His Christ. And both classes are accepted of 
Him. 

My hearers, let us learn from this how to hold men, 
to take God's valuation. There is no other life in 
this world so frequently misunderstood, so wrongly 
judged and so falsely valued, as the human life. We 
know how to judge a tree. " It is known by its fruits." 
So we know how to value a horse. Not so surely, 
not so easily, do we measure men. In their case, 
we are continually prone to lay too much stress upon 
the external. So the Athenians did, and gave their 
greatest and wisest soul hemlock to drink. So the 
Jews did, and crucified their Christ. And how many 
have written of Cromwell and his followers, who 
weighed them in the scale with their nasal twang, 
their uncouth patronymics, and their most unpoetical 
psalms. Just as though these things were any thing 
more than the rough outer garments of the men. 
And this style of judging men prevails even now. A 
man stands up, goes forth preaching Christ, casting 
out devils, doing good, and he is condemned, ostra- 
cized, " because he followeth not with us." Too often 
Christians will not own Elisha, unless he wears the 
long hair of Elijah. Just as if hair made the man, 
constituted Apostolic succession. 

Brethren, we must come to hold men, men who 



226 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

are the noblest work of God, in a more liberal spirit, 
and judge them by a nobler standard. Does Eli- 
sha possess the spirit, is he doing the work, of 
Elijah ? This is all that you may ask, all that you 
need to know. Remember that God's servants, that 
God's workmen, are not all cut after the same pattern, 
not all stretched upon the same theological form, not 
all dressed in one unvarying style. They come forth, 
not as the copper nails from the government machine, 
each just so long, each just so wide, and with U. S. 
stamped on the head of each of them. They rise not 
up before the world as so many puppets, all the same 
height, all opening their voices on the same note, all 
speaking the same words. No ; but they come forth 
men, come forth from the presence of that God who 
loves to throw out an infinite variety of individual 
types, and come, each of them, with a special message 
for this great world. Let them speak their own 
words, let them work in their own way, only so that 
they advance the great cause, only so that they save 
men. Let them be judged by their fruits. 

Brethren, every, thing here must be pardoned to 
the possession and manifestation of the true life. 
The man who possesses the Spirit of Christ, who is 
doing the work of Christ, he it is who is a Christian, 
he it is who is accepted of God, and who ought to be 
owned of men. God, who with his own hand, incases 
the human soul in various forms, clothes it in differ- 
ent garbs, forbids us to lay stress upon external same- 
ness. He would have the world look upon men as 
we look upon watches. In the factories where these 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 22J 

are made, they have a variety of works, some good, 
some poor ; and they have also an assortment of 
cases, both cheap and dear, into which these works can 
be put. You can buy first-class works, and have 
them put into a cheap or into a dear case, as you 
please. The case neither adds to nor detracts from 
the value of the mechanism within it. This will run 
as well within silver as within gold. 

So God has an infinite variety of men and of hu- 
man envelopes for them. Sometimes He puts His 
chosen one into a casing of poverty, sometimes of 
wealth. Now He puts him in the fierce son of the 
mountains, and now again in the husbandman. Now 
the divine works keep time to the music of the heav- 
enly life within an Elijah, and now within an Elisha. 
But in all cases the mechanism within, and not the 
envelope, not the casing, is the chief thing. The 
11 Spirit which rests upon " a man, this it is which de- 
termines whether the man is the successor of the 
prophet whom God has taken, or is a son of Belial. 
The spirit within and the fruit without, if these are 
good, it doesn't much matter about the hair or the 
cut of the clothes. 

But I cannot dwell. Judge others, judge your- 
selves, by that which is essential. " You have been 
in the church so many years." Well, what of it ? 
Your manhood may have been drying up all this 
while. " You never go to any place of amusement." 
This may be because you have no taste for this, or 
because you think too much of your money. " You 
love, as your daily food, the doctrines of your church." 



228 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

Perhaps you do not understand them, and dishonor 
God every time you say " Amen " to one of your 
favorites. But, " You have the Spirit of Christ, you 
are doing Christ's work." Ah ! there is no discount 
here. All this is pure gold. All this is so much of 
heaven already possessed. All this is God's seal of 
acceptance upon you. By these signs are you proven 
a true successor of the prophets who have been 
taken. 

Let us learn, secondly, from our subject, the variety 
and flexibility of means and methods allowed in the 
kingdom of God. We have all met with those who 
do little but mourn over the departures which have 
been made from the good old ways, and from the 
practice of the Fathers. So it is not difficult to im- 
agine, that, if these same persons had lived in Elisha's 
time, they would have complained that he did not 
live in caves and wear long hair and curse as Elijah 
did. " Alas, alas," they would have said, " that it 
should ever come to this, that a prophet of God 
should live in a comfortable house, and go about 
healing fountains and blessing men ! And see, if he 
is not actually carrying about the mantle of Elijah ! 
What a mockery ! To what a pass have we come ! " 

Too many there are who fail to distinguish between 
the end to be gained, and the means employed. The 
end was the same under both Elijah and Elisha, to 
save Israel from idolatry, to rescue the ten tribes 
from utter heathenism. This, the end aimed at 
through both lives, changed not ; not for a moment 
was it lost sight of. But the means employed, the 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 22g 

method of advance, of attack, these might change, — 
actually were changed. The object of the physician 
is to save the life of the sick man. So he watches 
the patient, noting every symptom, standing ready to 
change the medicine, so soon as there is a change in 
his condition. To-day, it is cordials freely, yesterday 
it was sedatives only. Why ? Because the turning- 
point has been reached, the fever has ceased, and the 
life is sweeping down to the brink of the grave. 

From the necessity of the case, great flexibility and 
variety of method must be, likewise, allowed to those 
who work for God. Because the generations change, 
knowledge increases, the line of battle shifts. He 
would be little better than a fool who should now 
preach to men in the style of the great divines of two 
centuries ago. As well might the soldier of to-day 
take the battle-axe, and go forth to the battle-field 
where the minie whistles, and the shell shrieks, and 
the cannon-ball jumps miles at the touch of powder. 
And then as to Christian activity. Good men are 
afraid of many of its new forms. They shake their 
heads, as much as to question whether a soul, reached 
by the Gospel through the instrumentality of a lay- 
man, is after all much advantaged. They do not 
know, they say, about the preaching of the Gospel in 
this irregular way. Oh, brethren, this is too bad ! 
Shall Christ alone have none of the benefits of this 
world's progress ? Shall every other industry profit 
from it, save the industry of the Church ? 

Why, out yonder on the Western fields, the farmer 
harvests in one day with his reaping machine as much 



230 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

grain as he could do in a whole month with the old 
sickle. And he is not sorry ; not sorry that he can 
cultivate five hundred acres instead of five. So, in 
these latter days it seems to me, that, through the 
diversity of operations, the reaping power of the 
Gospel is multiplied a thousand-fold. And yet men 
shake their heads. " This irregular preaching of the 
Gospel, " they exclaim. " Are we not going a little too 
fast ? After all, hadn't we better leave the world har- 
vest to the priests and their orthodox sickles ? ,f 

I know of clergymen who act as though their little 
church door, underneath their Gothic roof and stately 
steeple, was the very gate of heaven. And who, 
removed from the world of to-day by the chasm of at 
least three hundred years, stand up as mediaeval man- 
ikins with a ghostly grace to help, through this nicely 
carved little door, into a little nicely carved ecclesias- 
tical and exclusive heaven beyond. Such is the priest 
of to-day, and with what words further shall I describe 
him ? He is neither man nor woman, wearing the 
dress of the one and filling the office of the other. 
He is a mediaeval ghost, centuries out of date, and he 
knows church, — he knows church. In preference to 
this narrow ecclesiasticism, presided over by such a 
spirit, welcome, I say, Temperance Societies ; wel- 
come, Sunday-schools ; welcome Young Men's Chris- 
tian Associations ; welcome, lay Evangelists ; welcome, 
any agency or any organization that embodies the 
Spirit of Christ, that is in sympathy with man, that is 
serving a present need in a present world. 

The field is the world, and it waves white for the 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 23 1 

harvest. Away with your little sickles of a by-gone 
day. Call the laborers ; call the laborers. Let them 
come by thousands and tens of thousands. Summon 
the organizations. Let them spring up by scores 
under the inspiration of the manifold wisdom of the 
ever-present Spirit. Let isms die only, so that prin- 
ciples live. Let methods change, while the end is 
never lost sight of. A world for Christ. Let the 
word be, " Forward, advance the whole line." And 
let those stay behind whose priestly garments im- 
pede their progress, who love dead forms better than 
living men. 

In the third place, let us learn from the contrasts 
presented in the succession of Elisha, that God's 
great work in this world always proceeds from that 
which is negative to that which is positive ; from con- 
version to edification, from destruction to construc- 
tion. 

In the Divine economy, threatening, correction, 
repression, destruction, mark only the first stage, the 
incipiency of the work. They are only ordered for 
the sake of an end outside of and beyond themselves. 
Look at Elijah. Look at John Baptist. Look at 
Luther. Their great work was demolition. They 
builded little. The first act of Elijah was to sweep 
the kingdom with the besom of a withering curse. 
And like a very fiery pillar the Baptist stood up in 
the wilderness, and thundered wrath, wrath, wrath to 
come. But there was no finality about their work. 
Indeed, it was only ordered as the necessary antece- 
dent, as the preparation, for the true work which was 



232 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

to follow. Elijah cleared away the rubbish, and 
Elisha came forth to build. The Baptist cut the 
path for a greater than he. So is it always under 
God. He never sets before Him negation as an end, 
or repression or destruction. He accepts these only 
as the first stage, only as a preparation for something 
positive in the way of truth and righteousness and 
life. 

So, if you go out into the woods on our frontier, 
you will see men cutting down the forest trees, and 
rolling them together in a pile for burning. So much 
waste, so much loss, it seems. But wait and see. 
They stop not with this work of destruction. At 
once it is followed with edification, and the house 
arises, and the harvest waves in the clearing thus 
savagely made. Death has been allowed only to 
make way for a nobler life. So, God scourges a 
nation with war, not that the work may stop with 
this, but that, in the wound-furrows which He has 
thus made, He may sow the seed of a new life and of 
nobler potencies. Ever His work moves forward to 
that which is positive, — to upbuilding, to regenera- 
tion, to salvation. 

And this, the Divine method, we should follow. 
First : In our working for others. We must lead the 
penitent forward into the life of positive righteous- 
ness, or we never form the " new man." A man is 
like a vessel. He is formed to contain, and will surely 
be filled either with the good or with the bad. You 
cannot count on a vacuum in human nature ; and, if 
you could, the world would get no benefit from it, and 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 233 

God would abhor it. You have not therefore saved a 
man, if you have but emptied him of that which is 
bad. You must now see that he is filled with the 
good. Threatenings, visions of coming wrath, the 
awful concussions of terrible truth, — these are only 
to prepare the way for the positive precepts of God ; 
for the activities, the duties, the joys, the beauties of 
the new life. 

The drunkard is not saved when he gives up his 
cups. The impure man is not delivered by the simple 
repression of his vileness. The one must be engaged 
in the responsibilities and duties of a temperate life ; 
the other held fast to purity by the associations, by 
the denials, by the positive fulness of a life of chas- 
tity. Evil must be overcome of good, or like the 
scotched snake it will soon live again. The place of 
the unclean spirit must be filled, or else he soon will 
return, and with him seven other spirits more wicked 
than himself. 

In the second place, this truth has also application 
to our own religious life. Christianity, piety, are 
more than negation and our religion, if it is long to 
satisfy us, must have its positive side. Are you say- 
ing, " Now that I have professed Christ, I will not do 
so and so ? " I ask you, Are you thinking of what 
you will do ? Having thrown out the old furniture, 
are you now engaged in refurnishing, or is it your 
intention to allow the room to remain bare and cold, 
desolate and uninviting ? So will you entertain your 
Divine Guest ? " You are not going to work on Sun- 
day now," you say. What ! not for Christ ? Are 



234 * THE TRUE SUCCESSION, 

you satisfied with the purpose simply not to do that 
which is wicked ? Let me tell you, if this be your 
idea, your religion will not please or satisfy you long ; 
and it ought not. 

Inanity is well-nigh as bad as foulness, and it 
would be to the shame of your manhood and your 
Saviour if you stopped with it. I entreat you set 
before you some noble ends. Take some aims worthy 
of a new life. Begin on something positive in the 
way of goodness. In the family, in the Church, and 
in the world, make your present self at least as full, 
as forceful, as was your old self. Don't simply rub 
yourself of your vileness, offering yourself to your 
Saviour as bare as a scraped rock. Rest not with 
cutting down the weeds and briers, but plant fruit and 
flowers in their stead. Put on that which is beauti- 
ful. If there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, 
think on these things. By God's grace make a full 
man of your Christian self. 

I name one other lesson from this succession con- 
trast, — the proper use of the great and good men who 
have gone before us. This is to take up their work, 
and to carry it forward ; not, perhaps, just as they did, 
but as the Divine Providence intimates, and as we are 
best fitted to do it. Shall you read the memoir of a 
Pay son or Brainerd, and then begin to record your 
thoughts in a diary as they did theirs ? What if you 
have no thoughts worth writing down ? Will you 
fast as they did ? What if it gives you the dyspepsia ? 
What if your body is not fitted for such a regimen ? 
I tell you, my hearers, there is scarcely a worse use to 



THE TRUE SUCCESSION, 235 

which we put great men than slavishly to copy them. 
We shall only learn their little unessential habits per- 
fectly. The young men of Byron's day got the cut of 
his collar, but not the flow of his grand periods. 
Some, in our day, have succeeded in copying Car- 
lyle's barbarous style, but without his fulness of 
thought. 

So in religion. The saints have been aped in their 
dress by those who have had none of their spirit, and 
who carried not forward their work. Elisha shows 
us how to imitate the good. It was not by the mantle, 
which he never used ; or by the long hair, which he 
never wore ; or by the fulmination of curses, which he 
never uttered ; or by living in caves of the mountains, 
which he never did : but by the possession of a double 
portion of Elijah's spirit it was, that Elisha became 
and was declared to be the true successor of the great 
prophet who went up by a whirlwind into heaven. 
And when modern High-Churchism shall so illustrate 
her boasted succession, when she shall be able to grant 
unto the world the "signs of an Apostle " in like 
manner with Elisha, there will be many of the now 
incredulous who will be found ready to bow assent 
unto her bold and much-derided claim. 

I make two inferences. First : the many-sided, 
far-reacliing, most wonderful fruitage of the Divine 
Spirit in human naticre. One from the mountains of 
Gilead, and one from the plough, were called two of 
the greatest names of Old Testament history, — names 
which live to-day, long after oblivion has rotted the 
memory of kings and of statesmen, of warrior and of 



236 THE TRUE SUCCESSION. 

priest " A gratuitous education gave to the world 
Claudius Buchanan, crowns for whose head are daily 
going up from India's millions. Carey went from 
a shoemaker's bench to the same land, and to this 
day thousands are reading the thoughts of God in the 
new and strange words in which he set them. Bun- 
yan, the tinker, held aloft a lamp which has lighted 
millions of pilgrims unto their Father's house." And 
from their fishing smacks on Lake Gennesaret were 
called the men who were to fish for the world, and 
catch it too. " Not by might, nor by power, but by 
my Spirit, saith the Lord." 

Secondly : the safety of the truth and kingdom of 
God through this many-sided, far-reaching, and quali- 
fying power of the Divine Spirit. Elijah is whirled 
up to heaven, but behold his mantle fluttering down 
upon Elisha. The Lord God of Elijah leaves not the 
world with Elijah. He remains, providing a succes- 
sor for the prophet whom He has taken. And so it 
shall ever be. The chariots and horsemen of Israel 
shall not fail. Good men, great men, coming forth 
one after another from the presence of the creating 
God, shall not fail until the work is done, until the 
great consummation is reached, and victory sounds 
out along the whole line of the mighty host, which is 
marching forward under the banner of the cross. 



Cambridge: Press of John Wilson & Son. 



530 BROADWAY. NEW YORK, 
November. 1875. 



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